Profound Hunger
A few weeks back my host parents got a divorce.
Before I headed up to Prolisok, my host mother told me that pops had gone to visit babushka back in Zap. She seemed happy, the kids seemed happy, crap, I was happy too. With him gone for a few days, I wouldn't have to listen to them bicker. "Too bad he's leaving around the same time I am," I foolishly thought, thinking how wonderful it would be to relish more of this quiet time.
When I arrived home from training, I was not greeted as I usually am by my host father making me tea at 6am as he would smoke his first cigarette of the day. This time I just assumed that maybe he went to bed extra late or was simply passed out from having a few too many.
The day passed and still no sign of pops. Later, my host mom told me that he was still in Zap. I had no idea how long he will be gone, because she seemed scant on details but high on life, clearly enjoying having him out of the picture.
The sad thing is that while I prefer to be left alone by both host parents, I finally found out who the procurer of food was and sorely miss his absence.
Since he has been gone, I am left alone traditionally with no food--barely even any bread in the apartment. The fridge is literally empty--completely empty and I see no signs of food other than what is left on the dishes in the sink.
"Big Deal!" you may think, "just go out and buy yourself some food!" But see, that is the point--I pay over half of my salary to the host family for the sole purpose of being fed. I don't have any money to buy my own food every day. Just enough to go out with the boys from time to time and eat at McDonald's once in a while and try to save parts of my allowance allocated to travel.
Today, for instance, I smell food, so I know it is present in the home. I go to the kitchen and see that all that is on the menu is gretchka. My stomach turns at the site of it and I look for bread. None. Cookies? None. It appears that some meat is cooking on the stove, but who knows if it's ready to be eaten or if it's something I can help myself to.
*Sigh* Last night I jumped at the opportunity of going to a volunteers for dinner who, along with an out of town PCV, made a delicious dinner. On Sunday night, another one wil have his land lady teach him how to make borsch and we are invited to watch and consume the final product. But today is Saturday* and I have lesson plans to do but can only think about my grumbling tummy and how it isn't even noon yet. It looks like after a long absence, gretchka and I will become reacquainted.
*This was written several days ago at home. Pops returned on Sunday and has promised to make me something tasty tonight. Clearly one parent is my favorite.
Before I headed up to Prolisok, my host mother told me that pops had gone to visit babushka back in Zap. She seemed happy, the kids seemed happy, crap, I was happy too. With him gone for a few days, I wouldn't have to listen to them bicker. "Too bad he's leaving around the same time I am," I foolishly thought, thinking how wonderful it would be to relish more of this quiet time.
When I arrived home from training, I was not greeted as I usually am by my host father making me tea at 6am as he would smoke his first cigarette of the day. This time I just assumed that maybe he went to bed extra late or was simply passed out from having a few too many.
The day passed and still no sign of pops. Later, my host mom told me that he was still in Zap. I had no idea how long he will be gone, because she seemed scant on details but high on life, clearly enjoying having him out of the picture.
The sad thing is that while I prefer to be left alone by both host parents, I finally found out who the procurer of food was and sorely miss his absence.
Since he has been gone, I am left alone traditionally with no food--barely even any bread in the apartment. The fridge is literally empty--completely empty and I see no signs of food other than what is left on the dishes in the sink.
"Big Deal!" you may think, "just go out and buy yourself some food!" But see, that is the point--I pay over half of my salary to the host family for the sole purpose of being fed. I don't have any money to buy my own food every day. Just enough to go out with the boys from time to time and eat at McDonald's once in a while and try to save parts of my allowance allocated to travel.
Today, for instance, I smell food, so I know it is present in the home. I go to the kitchen and see that all that is on the menu is gretchka. My stomach turns at the site of it and I look for bread. None. Cookies? None. It appears that some meat is cooking on the stove, but who knows if it's ready to be eaten or if it's something I can help myself to.
*Sigh* Last night I jumped at the opportunity of going to a volunteers for dinner who, along with an out of town PCV, made a delicious dinner. On Sunday night, another one wil have his land lady teach him how to make borsch and we are invited to watch and consume the final product. But today is Saturday* and I have lesson plans to do but can only think about my grumbling tummy and how it isn't even noon yet. It looks like after a long absence, gretchka and I will become reacquainted.
*This was written several days ago at home. Pops returned on Sunday and has promised to make me something tasty tonight. Clearly one parent is my favorite.
posted by Molly | 5:28 AM
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