It's beginning to look a [little] like [something sort of resembling] Christmas...

Everyone has problems. The secret is not looking for a life without problems, but finding creative ways to meet your problems; notice I said meet... not necessarily solve. Thus, I give you:

The Lone American Volunteer in Serbia's Guide to Christmas

PROBLEM: You are a protestant living in an Orthodox country. What you have always celebrated as Christmas (December 25th) is not a holiday where you live.

SOLUTION: Make work special that day. Make your students balloon animals and give them candy canes sent from the US. Invite orthodox friends over for a special dinner; after all, it's not like they're doing anything that night!

PROBLEM: Nativity scenes are a big part of the holiday season for you, both because you're a Christian, and because they are a family/cultural tradition. You miss the nativity sets in your parents' house: the one your grandpa carved by hand from wood, the ceramic one you spent hours playing with as a child, the one your sister brought back from Ghana.

SOLUTION: Buy a nativity set in Serbia.

PROBLEM: You can't find a nativity set that costs less than $30, which is half your monthly income.

SOLUTION: Make your own nativity set out of salt dough.

PROBLEM: You had to bake your nativity set figures on their backs because the salt dough wouldn't allow them to stand up on the cookie sheet. Now Mary, Joseph, the wise men, the shepherd, and the angel can't stand up at all. Only Jesus in the manger and the sheep, who is lying down, look normal.

SOLUTION: Throw everyone but Jesus and the sheep away. Paint them, put them on display, and claim it is a visual reference to Jesus as the Good Shepherd.

PROBLEM: Almost all Christmas songs with any sort of deep or personal meaning make you burst into tears, especially ones involving the words "family", "friends", or "home".

SOLUTION: Listen to Santa Baby and Baby It's Cold Outside on repeat. Sing along. Declare "Serbian Sexy" as the theme for this year's Christmas.

PROBLEM: Making gingerbread houses from scratch with the mold your grandmother gave you is a tradition, but that mold is now in Virginia and your mother refuses to spend the $80 to ship it to you.

SOLUTION: Throw a gingerbread house making party for your Serbian friends, using hand cut gingerbread pieces instead of the mold. They won't really know what you're talking about, but will be interested. It helps if you claim it will be like the house in Hansel and Gretel and tell them they can eat the candy.

PROBLEM: There is no molasses in Serbia [see future post for Maggie Makes an Idiot of Herself While Trying to Buy Molasses story] and you can't make gingerbread without molasses.

SOLUTION: Make sugar cookie houses. Decorate with (homemade) colored frosting, sprinkles, gummi bears and gummi dinosaurs.

PROBLEM: Everyone you love and everyone who loves you live on another continent.

SOLUTION: Skype with family and friends. Use your time to work on new relationships where you are. Count your blessings. After all, the first Christmas took place when Joseph, Mary, and Jesus were away from home, too. At least you're not in a barn.

"[Maybe next year] we all will be together,
If the fates allow,
Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow...
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now."

"but WHERE is the MONKEY??"

Language differences continue to be both the most difficult and most amusing part of my time in Serbia.

It almost feels like I am making more mistakes the more I learn, because now I understand just enough of what people are saying to THINK I understand what they mean. A popular one to mention with my friends here is kofa vs. kafa. Kofa is a bucket, and kafa is coffee. A few weeks ago a girl was in our apartment and feeling sick. She put her head between her knees... and then threw up between her knees, onto the floor. Repeatedly. We all jumped into action, and I, of course, wanted to be as helpful as possible. I understood that one person was saying (in Sebian) "Go get the kofa! Bring the kofa!" I didn't know the word 'kofa', so I heard it as 'kafa' (a word I know and love). I thought it was a bit odd that they wanted to give the puking girl coffee, but Serbs LOVE coffee, and also have many "home remedies" for ailments that I find perplexing. They want coffee, I thought. Great. I can do that. So I made coffee, and I got some REALLY funny looks when I brought it into the room.

The language barrier really goes both ways, though. Like I've said before, people in Belgrade, especially people my age, tend to speak excellent English. That being said, some things just don't translate. My first gut-busting laughter since coming back from the funeral was shared with my roommate in our kitchen. I was washing dishes, and she was using a laptop I had borrowed from work at the kitchen table. She went to log in to facebook and couldn't find the "@" symbol, since international keyboards vary. She looked up and, with all seriousness, asked me in English, "Where is the monkey?". We hadn't been living together very long at this point, so I didn't want to freak her out or accuse her of smoking crack, so I did my best to maintain a straight face and said, "Milana, we don't HAVE a monkey." After several "what?"s, "WHAT??"s, and "What do you MEAN??"s, we figured it out. In Serbian, the "@" is called "majmunce", or "the little monkey". Since it doesn't make sense, she assumed it was a term they had borrowed from English. Needless to say to the native English speakers reading this blog... it's not.

There have been some fun times with people who are learning English as well. One of my colleagues at the kindergarten told me the day we met that he doesn't speak English. He said it in excellent English, though, which was confusing. I believe his exact words were: "Hi! I'm Kolja. I'm sorry, I don't speak English. I only know some English from watching TV". That boy must have watched a LOT of TV, though, because we have had several long conversations in English. I think what he, and a lot of Serbs, meant by "I don't speak English" was really "my English isn't perfect." That is true. Multiple times now he has asked me, "Maggie, do you want to go to bed with me?". The first time this was especially confusing (and I should mention here that this particular colleague is very handsome, wears funny shirts, is great with kids, and smells like fabric softener [in a good way]). The first time he asked, I think I just looked at him for a while, and then he motioned for me to follow him to the basement. WELL, who am I to argue? I'm a great cross cultural ambassador, I would ever be culturally insensitive and turn down a social invitation, and I love fabric softener, so I followed him to the basement... where we set up the little beds where the younger kids take naps. I should maybe tell him what he is implying with the way he says this, but I enjoy being propositioned too much to correct him.

Finally, there are the different ways Serbian and English are difficult. English grammar, compared to nearly any other language, is ridiculously easy. I laugh, you laugh, (s)he laughs, we laugh, y'all laugh, they laugh. No cases for nouns (with the possible exception of pronouns) and no genders. Serbian grammar is NUTS, with 7 cases for nouns, genders, confusing accents, and letters I can't pronounce. Serbian, however, is completely phonetic. "Write as you speak, and read as it's written" (Thanks, Vuk Karadžić!). Every letter in Serbian has ONE sound, and the sound can't be changed by the order of the surrounding letters. There are no silent letters, no Is before Es except after Cs or when sounding like A as in neighbor or weigh. It is pure, honest, and straightforward, and once you learn the rules, they don't change. This is why I can read books to my students. I usually have no idea what I'm saying, but I can read, and they understand what I'm saying. Thus, the most difficult thing for Serbs learning English is the crazy way things are written and pronounced. One of my friends from work speaks English well, but has never learned to read or write it, so she just writes it like it's Serbian, leading to things like this (actual text message I received): "Ajm lejt bikoz aj vejt bas. Aj bi der for 10min." That's in English... um, kind of. If you read it with Serbian rules of pronunciation (and grammar) it says "I'm late because I wait bus. I be there for 10 min", or, with English grammar, "I'm late because I'm waiting for the bus. I will be there in 10 min." I have this message saved in my phone, and will keep it forever. It is the most endearing text I've ever gotten.

I have a new Serbian teacher now, so I making faster progress on more practical things. I have also gotten over a lot of my anxieties about practicing what little I do know, because I've realized people think my accent and inability to hear the difference between "Č" and "Ć" or say "Lj" is cute, and it's a good way to make friends (and be kissed... somehow it's a fairly common occurance for me to say something in Serbian and for someone to laugh, put thier hands on my head, and kiss my cheek.) Dosta mi je težak, ALI, snalazim se... nekako. :o)

Ne razumem...

I haven't written anything for a while, and I apologize to those of you who have been waiting on the edge of your seats. I would love to tell you that I have been too busy learning Serbian to write anything, but then you might ask me to say something, and I would have to admit that I still know next to nothing.

In theory I work at the kindergarten from 8 until 1, and then have Serbian lessons from 4- 5:30 during the week. I also have about an hour and a half of homework every day. So, that means I am spending about five hours a day working, and three hours a day learning the language. In truth, however, I learn much more Serbian at the kindergarten than I do in my lessons. At work learn things like "Don't put that in your mouth!" "Sit down!" "Eat your cabbage!" and "Don't open the bunny cage!". In my lessons I learn things like "There is a shift and change of stress in many Class I disyllabic masculine nouns with the short-rising accent on the first, and the length on the second syllable. The accent shifts to the middle syllable and changes into the long rising one in all cases except the vocative singular." Incidentally, I always thought I was good at learning languages before I tried to learn Serbian. It turns out I happen to have studded easy languages.

People in Belgrade tend to speak very good English. In fact, the only people I have met who ACTUALLY don't speak English are either elderly or under 10. Many people between those two groups will claim they don't speak English, but they usually do and are just being modest (or don't want to talk to me). There seems to be an attitude here that everyone *should* know English, and when people think their English isn't very good, they're embarrassed. I have even been asked by more than one person why I am trying to learn Serbian, because it is "such a small language", and "only relevant here." I hardly know what to say to those people. I am learning Serbian because I LIVE here, because I look like an idiot in the grocery store, because I can't talk to my students, because I respect you enough to try to address you in your native tongue... the list for THAT goes on and on.

Despite my genuine efforts to progress, I still fail at most things most days with this language. Some fun examples:

(At work):
Kindergartner: Maggie, you are American?
Maggie: Yes I am.
Kindergartner: Do you LIVE in America??
Maggie: (confusing the verb "to live" with the verb "to come from") Yes, I do!
Kindergartner: WHOAAAAA!!!!!!
(Several hours later)
Maggie: (to self) Why was she so shocked that I am from the US?? OH CRAP she asked if I lived there NOW... she thinks I am commuting every day to Belgrade from DC... oh dear.


(With friends)
Friend: (sneezes)
Maggie: (literal translation) Shhh, kitty!
Friends: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Maggie: What!? Isn't that what you say when someone sneezes??
Friend: That is what you say when you are 6 and someone sneezes.
(guess where I learned it?)

(At the grocery store)
Maggie: (struggles to figure out how to get the little scale to print the sticker so she can buy her lemons. Motions to the clerk for help).
Clerk: (points at lemons) Lemons?
Maggie: (conditioned response) I don't speak Serbian.

(At home)
Doorbell rings. Maggie is home alone and answers it. A large, very scary looking man is standing there.
Man: Hello.
Maggie: Hello.
Man: Is your TV working?
Maggie: (WTF? Did Milana call someone to fix the TV? Shouldn't he have some kind of uniform on if he works for the TV company? Maybe they don't have uniforms for TV guys in Serbia. If I let him in, he will probably kill me, but it might be culturally insensitive to not let him in. It's raining, maybe he wants coffee. Maybe if I make him coffee he won't kill me...)
Man: IS... YOUR... TV.... WORKING?
Maggie: (what the hell) No, it is not working.
Man: OK. (enters house. Messes with TV.) (bunch of stuff in Serbian)
Maggie: (nods)
Man: (bunch of stuff in Serbian), understand?
Maggie: yes.
Man: (bunch of stuff in Serbian) TV not works (something in Serbian) understand?
Maggie: Yes.
Man: (Bunch of stuff in Serbian) understand? (Messes with TV. Bunch of stuff in Serbian that sounds like a question.)
Maggie: Yes?
Man: Yes??
Maggie: No?
Man: Good. (bunch of stuff in Serbian. TV starts working. Bunch more stuff in Serbian.) You speak Serbian well.
Maggie: Thank you. I am learning the language.

So it goes.

Another MCC worker in the region had some really interesting things to say about learning the language. He will be serving in Sanski Most, Bosnia and Herzegovina, but is living in Sarajevo for a few months to study language. You can read his thoughts here: http://matthewharms.wordpress.com/2009/10/25/what-exactly-am-i-speaking/ (it isn't letting me put it in as a link and my computer skills are as limited as my language skills, so you can cut and paste. I trust you).

If you can't tell from that post, he knows a LOT more of the language than I do. I bet if asked if he was buying lemons, he would say, yes, I am buying lemons. The he would probably proceed to have a conversation in the local language about Yugoslavian literature. Not that I am bitter. I am learning the language, too... polako, i malo po malo.

And so it goes.

Well.

When all of this first happened, there was no doubt in my mind that I would go back to Serbia. For one, what would I DO in the US? I doubt I could find a job, and if I could, there is no way I would love it as much as I love my job in Belgrade. I don't like leaving things undone. I signed up to live in Belgrade for at least a year, and wasn't ready to let go of it.

Then I started thinking about what going back would actually look like. I adore Belgrade, I love my job, and have met some really lovely people. The fact of the matter, however, is that I still don't have any close friends there, and certainly no network of friends and family who know me intimately and love me no matter what I do. Living alone in a country where I know no one and can't speak the language was difficult and lonely at times. Losing my father has been incredibly painful. I started to wonder... do I want to combine something very lonely with something very painful? That seems like a bad combination.

There was a day or two where I thought I couldn't go back. I was too sad, too tired, too scared to do anything. I talked to my region directors about how to get my belongings back to the US. I talked to my family about living here. And I talked to a pastor who knows me well from college. He didn't tell me what to do, didn't even really offer advice, but he asked the kind of leading questions I needed to be asked. A specific Bible verse came to mind while speaking to him (perhaps in part because it was the first Bible verse I learned in Spanish while in Nicaragua with this pastor). The verse is 1st John 4:18, "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out all fear..." If I stayed in the US it would be because I am scared. I am scared to be alone, scared to fail, scared that if I leave again something else terrible will happen to my family. But fear has nothing to do with love, perfect love casts out all fear. Because God is love, I know that this fear is not from God, and therefore I can be free from its influence. So, yesterday I emailed my region representatives and committed to going back to Serbia. I have my ticket and everything. I am still scared, of course, but I also have the strength and confidence to face the fear.

Like many things I say, this is an idea that has been expressed often (and often more eloquently!) by people before me. So, I will borrow John Newton's words to sum it up:

Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come
It was grace that lead me safe this far, and grace will lead me home.