My Army
One of the things that often amazes me is the language ability of many of the young people here in Kyrgyzstan. There are many people who speak really good English – and most are rather self effacing about it, peppering their conversation with comments like, “My English is not very good.”
On the contrary, there is a whole contingent of people who speak very good English and can cope with a wide variety of accents, colloquialisms and idioms. It’s true that they so, sometimes, make mistakes – especially over articles, (“the” and “a” or “an”, which don’t exist in Russian or Kyrgyz), but generally they know more than enough to understand and make themselves understood.
It’s not everyone, of course. There are many people who have a rudimentary knowledge or vocabulary and quite a few can only manage a few phrases … such as “Hello, How are you?” spoken with a very strong accent.
It’s not as good, for example, as in Holland and Norway. I remember visiting both countries and virtually everyone I met spoke English. In both countries I met one person who didn’t. In Norway, it was a waitress and in Holland, it was a bus driver. Now, it’s true that I may have just been lucky. I was, after all, a tourist and was visiting tourist “hot spots”.
The situation is slightly different in France, although, to be honest that was a long time ago – the last time I was there was over the New Year in 1998/9. I always felt that people in Paris understood English, but would only reluctantly speak it once it was clear that my French was not very good, (although everyone really appreciated the effort I made to do so). On the other hand, once you got outside the capital city, those that did speak the language were much more willing to do so.
Having said that, I am often pleasantly surprised with the level of language skills exhibited by many people, especially young people. Some of them have been fortunate enough to travel abroad, to America or Britain, where they have been able to hone up on their skills. The vast majority, however, haven’t.
And, it’s true for not just English, but also French and a number of other languages.
I just wish I could speak Russian as well, never mind Kyrgyz – and I have the advantage of living here where I have to use my language as an everyday occurrence, embedded in the milieu; surrounded by the language; reading, listening, speaking.
One of the biggest surprises came shortly after we opened the hotel. I walked in one morning to see the receptionist reading a book. It wasn’t the fact that she reading, “on the job” that caused my surprise … it was what she was reading – a John Grisham novel, and not an abridged version, nor a simplified version. She was about half way through it and I asked how she was getting on with it, and she said that she was enjoying it immensely … as she had the others!; he was one of her favourite authors!
This took me aback. I was impressed that she had managed to find a copy – there aren’t that many bookshops that books in English in Bishkek, that she was coping with the novel, and also that she had read several of the his books … and, apparently those of other authors.
We talked a little about her reading habits, and I started to notice that other people also took the opportunity to read books in English. I had to confess that I don’t often read books in Russian. It’s hard work. Sometimes I do pick up a book about Kyrgyzstan, history or culture, and try to wade my way through its pages. At the moment, for example, I am going through one about the history of the Orthodox Church here in Kyrgyzstan. However, it is quite hard work rather than “reading for pleasure”. I very rarely pick up a novel in Russian, preferring to read the masters like Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky in an English translation. This is a lot easier, now that I have a Kindle, and can download them.
I do have one book in Russian that I picked in a bookshop: My Army, by Ildar Bikennin. It’s written by a young man who, voluntarily, enrolled in the Kyrgyz Army and recounts some of his experiences during his service.
I was in the bookshop looking through the shelves for English books, as I said, there aren’t that many, and on my way out I happened to see this one. For some reason, I picked it up and scanned the opening pages. Surprised, (pleasantly surprised!), by the fact that I could understand what I was reading fairly easily, there was something about the text that grabbed my attention. It went something like this:
I went to the Army Recruitment Centre immediately after my final school exam. The Commissariat had recently been transferred to another building … At that moment everything was a scene devastation and chaos: bags of cement and cables lying around … I was told to go into an office and waited for about half an hour. When a colonel finally arrived, he looked severe and businesslike … and a little perplexed. It was clear that he wasn’t accustomed to such a scene … He sat in a chair and took me in with his eyes.
“Well, tell me, why are you here?”
“I want to serve,” I said honestly.
“What?” the colonel choked, it was clear he didn’t understand. “What do you mean, ‘serve’, Alternative Service?”
“Why?”, I answered, “am I ill or deformed? I want to serve normally, like everyone …”
He stared at me but couldn’t see any defect, at least, not visually. Then he took my documents and studied them carefully.
“You are the son of a single mother, you shouldn’t do it.” His words were puzzling. “Are you serious?”
But, I had come to a final decision.
“Very serious. I want to serve,” I repeated.
“Well, really.” He looked thoughtful. It was clear that he came across someone like me very rarely. “Well done, of course you can serve if you want to. If you haven’t changed your mind, come back in the autumn. On the eleventh of September there will be a call up summons and we decide where to send you then.”
“Can’t I enroll earlier?” I asked.
To be honest, I was upset. I had thought that they would take me straight away.
“No. Earlier is not possible” said the colonel sympathetically, and standing up.
And he warned me, that I should definitely think about my decision one more time. “If you change your mind, tell us straight away.” But, I took no notice.
After a few minutes standing and reading this, I also came to a decision; walked to the cash desk and bought a copy. After such an opening, what else could I do?
To be honest, however, I haven’t got very far with it. As I said, I find reading Russian can be quite hard work. I don’t think I will ever be able to read as freely and fluently as others seem to be able to read English, but every now and again I reach for my copy and read a few pages and, although some of the twists and turns of the plot pass me by couched in the intracacies of the language, I get the general gist, or thrust, of what is being said.
Bishkek