Cutie!!!

You take one look at this adorable face and you can’t help but want to hold this little girl and kiss those cheeks.  I was so excited last week when I got to to travel with one of my good friends and her precious daughter.  Two days hanging out with them gave me quite a window into the reality of life for expat families with small children. 

I couldn’t count the number of people that came up to my friend just to comment on the baby.  They would tug on my friends arm to get her to stop so they could pull out their cell phones and try to snap a picture.  Other people would outright grab the child out of her arms so they could not only hold her, but carry her back to where their family was sitting to show off the little ‘doll’.  My friend lives in another part of the country and she says this happens all the time.  Everyone wants to stroke her kids blond hair, they want pictures of the bright blue eyes.  People are always tugging on her kids arms, pointing, giggling,  giving them food and candy and even making suggestions on how my friend should raise her children differently.   

All this stopping, touching, grabbing, nagging and picture taking wears on my friend’s nerves.  After only two days of watching all this 24/7 attention I wanted to yell, “STOP IT, all of you… she is not an animal at the zoo or a circus freak… she is a little girl. Leave her alone”. 

A Little Girl's Hair

When I use to babysit I loved to play with the little girls hair, brushing out long curls, forming complicated braids, tying ribbons and making her feel pretty. This doesn’t work as a way to reach out to the little kids in my neighbourhood. Most young Uyghur girls have no hair. Their parents shave their heads all through childhood in hopes that will grow in darker and thicker.

My Kazak friend was telling me in her culture they not only shave off all the girls hair, they also believe that the saliva of a cow will further stimulate hair growth. She told me the story of having her head covered in moistened cow feed so that the animal would be enticed to lick her entire bald little head. She still trembled 20 years latter as she told the story and admits that she hates cows.

Even without being cow feed, you can tell the custom of head shaving does lead to thick wonderfully dark long hair.

Father's Love

Some of the tourists that went travelling with me this summer took some great photos of Uyghur men hanging out with and showing love to their children/grandchildren. I love these pictures. Enjoy!

Celebrate Good Times

In the past I have been quick to publish all the gruesome and bloody pictures from Korban festival (the yearly Muslim celebration remembering Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son, by once again offering a lamb). It might sounds like a gross holiday, but when you live here it is easy to get caught up in the excitement and joy of it all.

Days before the actual holiday I was walking through the bazaar buying dried fruit and candy for our table, greeting neighbors and talking to sellers about the meaning behind the holiday. There was electricity in the air rivaling that of a mall in North America the week before Christmas. Everyone was talking about the holiday and their plans; everyone was preparing their home for guests and generally enjoying the idea of something to celebrate. I was so caught up in the fun of it all I didn’t even mind having to step through the piles of sheep poop that are everywhere as the streets are flooded with these wooly creatures.

On the morning of Korban my roommate and I headed outside to interact with our neighbors and participate in all the activity. As we step out of our stairwell the kids came running toward us.

“Big Sister, Big Sister, come see my sheep”

“That one over there is ours” said one boy as he ran after his sheep and swatted it on the bottom, laughing when the lamb complained in a loud voice.
The next day these same kids talked the parents into coming to visit at our house. Everyone celebrates the holiday here by going from one home to another visiting family and friends and helping them eat their freshly slaughtered lamb. The kids dragged their parents up to our apartment, even before they made it to their real aunt and uncle’s place. We pulled out our leg of lamb to serve them meat, and gladly told them the story of the three sacrifices. They kids even borrowed our Uyghur copy of the Prince of Egypt movie. Other than the stomach ache from overeating it has been a great week.

Country Cousin

My Uyghur mom and her family recently took in a distant relative to help them raise their grandchildren. They have two small boys that it is mainly their responsibility to raise. Their son is living in Europe and their daughter-in-law who, lives with them, is a police officer and is so busy with work that she is hardly ever home. That means that my mom, who is almost 65 spends her days running after a five year old who is tough and has never heard the word "no".

I kept telling them it was too much for them to handle on their own. In the end their daughter-in-law asked a second cousin living in the country to move in with them and help with the children. She is a 12 year old girl, who like I mentioned before is not registered. Twelve is a weird age for girls some of them look like they are going on 30, and others, like this young girl, look like they're still 8. She has learned how to read and write along the way, but doesn't really speak any of the national language. She can barely lift the baby but she is very dedicated to helping with the laundry, dishes, cooking, and such.

My Uyghur parents have offered that if she is willing to stay and help around the house they will pay for her to go to a training school after their grandchildren have started school. It sounds like such a sad life for a young girl, but living with my Uyghur mom and dad and having an opportunity to learn a trade is a lot more than she could have hoped for otherwise. Her mom is getting remarried and her soon-to-be-step-father wants nothing to do with her. Sad stories like these are a daily part of my life.

Give or Take a Couple of Million

If you read my last blog post you might have noticed that I took an estimated guess at how many people live in this city. It might not be an exact guess considering I allowed for a difference of up to 2 million people, but population is a hard thing to nail down around here. For instance, there is a law on the number of children a family can have. Uyghur families living in the city can have two, those in the country can have three. But some people don't abide by the law and end up having more children. In order to keep these extra children they either have to a pay a big fine to the government, or else keep the child a secret by not registering them. A non registered child officially does not exist, which means they can't go to school and they are not included in a population count. These children will end up being street sweepers, house cleaners and such. They will never be able to move up in society because they officially don't exist. As sad as it sounds it is actually a very common thing, so common that some people actually figure there are likely two million unregistered, non legal children.

No Saying No

I was babysitting some of my friends children recently and was amazed at how well they listened. They understood that when I said no, I meant no. They willingly accepted my authority and listened so well.

I am not use to this attitude. Uyghur's believe that you should not discipline a child until they are thirteen and old enough to handle it. I have been over visiting some of my Uyghur grandmothers and while they were in the kitchen getting tea their grand kid has punched, bitten, and kicked me. When the lady came back and saw their precious child playing roughly with me, they didn't tell them "no" or get the child in trouble. Instead they just joked with him "you better stop this or big sister might not come back to visit you" "if you keep hurting your big sister her father might have to come and beat you up and he is a big, mean, strong man" (she issues the threat without knowing what a gentle and kind man my father really is). Disciple was issued only in terms of empty threats, it doesn't take a kid long to understand there is nothing behind them. It is just supposed out here that young children will be naughty and there is nothing to be done about it but wait.

Visiting some of these friends once landed me in bed for almost a week with a sore back. The kid had head rammed me in the stomach, driving me back into the wall. I was actually scared to go back to that ladies home and actually found out when her grandson was in preschool so that I could do my visiting when he was not around.