old post-Dec. 28

Winter break doesn’t officially start till tomorrow, but my school hasn’t had any real classes since last week. Today was the older students’ (grades 9-11) holiday celebration. It reminded me of the Indian dance shows I went to at khane (my mosque) when I was younger. It was just a bunch of kids doing Uzbek dances with cheesy dialogue in between. One couple tried to imitate an American rap video, which was funny for about a minute, but got old really quick. They also played a game in which four couples competed against each other. They laid out one sheet of newspaper on the floor, and a couple had to dance on it for a minute. Then the paper was folded in half, and they had to dance for another minute. It was folded in half again, and again. You get the idea. By the end of it, these kids were all over each other. It was shocking, actually. In Uzbek culture merely walking alone with a boy older than yourself who’s not your brother is shameful. I certainly didn’t expect that, but now that I think about it, it’s not really surprising, considering how sexually repressed this culture is. The (embarrassing) highlight of the celebration was my slow dance…with a student. They get a kick out of slow dancing here; they call it a “waltz”. I was just sitting on the side, playing with my camera as I waited for the next dance group to perform, when I heard the words “Americalik mehman” (American guest) and “raks” (dance) in the same sentence. Nervous dread came over me as I realized what was going on, and before I could protest, Bahtiyor, one of the best English speakers in the 11th form, grabbed my hands and pulled me out on the floor. It was just me and him, alone on the dance floor in front of all these students, principals, and teachers. Yuck. It honestly wasn’t that bad, but if you know me, you know I’m not the kind of person who wants so much attention focused on her. I really like the Uzbek/Kyrgyz dance culture—they dance every chance they get—but it’s definitely going to take a while getting used to being the American mehman (read: American plaything) at every cultural event I go to.