Operation Kazakhstan Daily Summary

Now that Becky and I have managed to find our footing in Karaganda, we figure the time has come to do a bit of explaining about our daily doings:

Becky and I begin each day with a morning routine that includes a bay-window breakfast, a little personal scrubbing, and a glimpse of e-mail while we wait for our driver, Vladimir, to pick us up at a quarter of ten. Meanwhile, Andrei is also getting his day along with his eleven roommates: getting cleaned up and dressed in their winter layers (an ordeal as we have seen), eating porridge (I’m not kidding), and a morning group activity such as Russian story-time, Russian Sesame Street on the tube, or singing Russian songs to a piano accompaniment. While discussing Andrei’s morning routine, it is important to note that at twenty-three months Andrei is completely potty-trained, dresses himself, washes his own hands and face, sips his juice from an open cup with out spilling... What do these orphanage care-givers know that the rest of us don’t? I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it firsthand.

Becky and I arrive at the orphanage around ten. We take our boots and coats up to the playroom where we spend our daily visit, then carry off down the hall to retrieve little Andrei from his quarters. Andrei’s group activity is usually wrapping up by the time we arrive. To our continual surprise, we are then welcomed into Andrei’s quarters by the caregivers where we are greeted by the eager eyes of the children. As so many of the children at the Karaganda orphanage are not eligible for adoption due to various reasons, Andrei is the only one of his bunch that is currently undergoing the adoptive process. Therefore, it is a bit distressing to me when the kids call out to us as “mama” and “papa” (these Russian words are the same). I don’t understand why we are granted such unobstructed access, but I must say it is immensely interesting to see the habitat in which Andrei spends the bulk of his time. Having spent ten days with Andrei at the time of this writing, Andrei is running for us the moment we enter his room. It is quite a heady scene. Andrei’s quarters include a bedroom with two rows of beds for 'the little dwarves', a tiled area with a pint-sized wash-basin, two mini toilettes, a washing machine, and a cubby with a hook for each child’s cup, washcloth and clothes. There is also a common area with tables for eating and activities, and a carpet area for story-time and singing. Other scheduled events, such as music recitals and holiday programs are held in one of the larger common rooms of the orphanage.

Back at the visitation playroom, Becky, Andrei and I set about for a two hour session of unadulterated monkeying: balloon badminton, magic coin tricks, rifling through mom’s purse for goodies. We share our playroom with another family (that also happens to be from Utah) who are in the process of adopting baby twins. Generally speaking, it is a very pleasant, if somewhat tiring two hours. Our play session lasts until noon, and then everybody takes an extended European-style lunch break. Becky and I walk Andrei back to his quarters--swinging him between us like we used to do Edward when he was little--and return him to his comrades for more playtime, lunch, and a nap. Vladimir waits for us outside the building while we visit with Andrei, smoking cigarettes and telling Kazakhstan horse-stories with the other drivers. Becky and I catch a ride back to our apartment to eat lunch, then either go for a walk, watch the latest Kazakhstani music videos, decipher food labels at the grocery store, read, or nap. As far as Becky and I can tell, there are five other families, four from the U.S. and one from Spain, that are on a similar routine.

Returning to the orphanage at four, the afternoon session goes much like the morning: two-year-old dancing to an Ipod speaker, dumping out mom’s coin purse, playing peek-a-boo over the back of and old chair. During the afternoon session, the winter sun eventually sets through the room’s large south facing windows. By this time, I think everybody is finished for the day. Andrei gives Becky and I each a hug and a smacker for the road, and never fusses about returning to the other kids. As Becky and I leave the orphanage, the whole operation is winding down.

As Andrei and his homies begin their way to bed after a final bowl of porridge, Becky and I usually settle in for an uneventful evening of dinner, books, and maybe a DVD. We have gone out to dinner a couple of times with the other parents and have had a really nice time. The food here is excellent and actually quite cheap. In a Turkish restaurant one evening, we even enjoyed some live music care of the local talent. Pretty cool stuff.

Becky and I have ten more days in Karaganda, making for a total of three weeks. Our time spent in this old Soviet outpost has been enough for us to gain a fresh perspective on what it means to be American, something I will discuss further in a future post.

Charles and Becky

Post Script:
The Karaganda orphanage houses about a hundred and fifty children. Ages range from newborns to five years. I don’t know the percentage of kids that are eligible for adoption, but I get the impression it is surprisingly low. As long as a family member visits a child once every six months, the biological parents’ legal custody is preserved and the state will continue to care for the child as long as necessary. Beyond the age of five or six, kids are transfered to another orphanage that will continue to house them until the age of sixteen. From there, we are told, national military service is one of the more common avenues into the outside world.