I’ve talked a lot about the simplicity of life in Azerbaijan. One thing I really looked forward to leaving behind in America is our constant need of more of the newest/biggest/fastest/flashiest—all things opulent and excessive. Is more really giving us more?
Not to say that you don’t see that sort of thing here, people really like to flaunt when they have money, maybe because they were so used to not having it for so long. But I’d venture to say this happens more in the capital and developed areas. Not so much in Z-town. Just like I’ve said when people receive anything new, whether it’s a dress, a bracelet or a new kitchen pan—people congratulate one another on it…because it happens so rarely. They seem to have a way of appreciating it more.
As my clubs have finished for the summer and my days are more empty than full I’ve used this time to do some serious baking (and giving away to friends and neighbors) and cleaning out of my AZ life. Since I have month-long travel plans between AZ and US I don’t have a lot of space to bring many things home—nor do I want to.
When I moved of my host family’s house [in April 2009] they asked if I would me give them my rain-boots when I left AZ. (I doubt my mother would approve this as she paid a hefty load for those quality rubber things that helped me survive the muddy months.) They’ve also tried to claim dibs on my water filter-as have many other locals-yet that’s PC property and must be returned. Others want my vitamins or aspirin, little things that the average American wouldn’t probably think twice about desiring. But the bulk of my stuff that I’ll donate to either the PCV community or friends around town will be my clothes.
You may recall how deathly hot this summer was—more extreme in Z than what even the east coast experienced, minus the AC—and my neighbor who graciously lets me use her refrigerator had hardly any short sleeved shirts. One day when we were discussing how hot it was, a regular conversation on hot days despite the fact that always talking about it doesn’t ever make it any more comfortable, she asked me if I could give her some of my clothes. This was a bit bolder than most locals and it surprised me but I realized how little they have, not even a house phone line. I chalked it up again to being the American who could solve everything as I’m presumably viewed (you would be too if you were here—they believe all Americans easily have everything.) A day or so after, while switching out my ice water bottles in their freezer, I handed her one of my jcrew t-shirts that I no longer really needed. She happily accepted it and I saw her wearing it to her job soon after.
Just this week I went to my counterpart’s house and upon entering her house I saw she was trying on skirts in her living room. {She hadn’t paid for them yet. It’s possible to take them from the shops, as there are no actual dressing rooms, and then bring back when you decide which one you want to purchase. There’s practically no way of stealing as everyone in town knows one another and your reputation would haunt you if you even tried.} She was trying to figure out her outfits for the school year and had bought a black and white shirt many years ago but just couldn’t find a skirt to match it. I suggested her black pants but of course that’s not an option for her to wear to school. PANTS! {gasp.} Nothing she had really matched the materials well or didn’t require some serious alternations. I thought about one of my black skirts I’ve had since probably 10th grade that I brought with me here and only worn occasionally. It’s from the GAP but in general just higher quality than most clothes made in this country and wouldn’t set her back a good fraction of her monthly salary.
Two days later I stopped by again, to drop off some cookies, a grammar book, pick some fresh figs from her garden-my latest obsession-and give her my black skirt. At first she was surprised and touched but then she said that it wouldn’t fit since she says I’m “slimmer” than her. She’s tiny and petite and I told her to give it a try. I would be leaving it here anyway so I would hope it would go to some use. As she came out of her room to display the outfit together and asked what I thought, I could tell by her strut and face that she already decided she was pleased. “Ela” she said, which means “wonderful” or “perfect”. I told her how perfectly the material matched with her skirt. It also fit her so well-no alternations necessary. She practically danced over to her husband in the yard to ask his approval but pretended it was from the shop and asked if she could pay 15 AZN (around $20) for it. He fell for it and agreed.
I felt truly delighted to make her, someone who is hard to engender such excitement, so happy. I wish I could bring such pleasure to someone everyday. Then I thought about how happy she was to receive something secondhand. Maybe I’m off-base since I haven’t been in America for awhile but I don’t think many people would be so exhilarated about receiving a hand-me-down or re-gift. Yet again it brings me back to the simplicity of their lives and that buying (or receiving) a skirt only happens occasionally so it should be celebrated! How refreshing to take joy in the little things.
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