teeth

I just came home from Zhupar’s and sat down to relax in the chair that one of Kanipa Apa’s friends had wet. And it occurred to me, as changed my pants and gave it the vinegar treatment, that being old in Kazakhstan is cruel and unfair. Imagine being incontinent on a -45C day when your only socially acceptable option is to be constantly putting on your coat and boots and shuffling through the snow to the tiny, slippery outhouse. Imagine going to your friend’s house where there are three chairs (and four people) and wetting one of them and having to walk home like that because the water pipes had frozen again.
These old ladies come pretty often, drink tea, play cards, warm up (our house is warm; theirs are cold) and complain about their alcoholic sons and their children who take every tenge of their pensions. The three of them – toothless Kanipa, who is too poor to buy dentures, the incontinent one, and the one who lives in a tiny house with 6 people who can’t pull together the money to buy coal – look happy when they're together.
The money Peace Corps gives us is enough – more than enough for me – but a shockingly small amount per month by American standards. And yet it still creates a cushion around us, because the money is to keep us from unsafe situations, such as living through a winter like this without coal.