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| Version 3 | Version 4 |
|---|---|
| Letter from Kazakhstan: think local | Letter from Kazakhstan: think local |
| (8 days later) | |
| The banya has become one of my favourite places to be in Kazakhstan. Once I got over my prudishness, I discovered that there is nothing quite like sitting naked next to a good friend, either in companionable silence or baring your soul, while sweat is gushing out of every pore. I don't know what it is – possibly the lack of clothing – but there's an element of vulnerability and trust that just doesn't exist outside the steam-filled walls. | The banya has become one of my favourite places to be in Kazakhstan. Once I got over my prudishness, I discovered that there is nothing quite like sitting naked next to a good friend, either in companionable silence or baring your soul, while sweat is gushing out of every pore. I don't know what it is – possibly the lack of clothing – but there's an element of vulnerability and trust that just doesn't exist outside the steam-filled walls. |
| I was sitting there with my Kazakh friend when one of the other women in the room began talking to whoever would listen. She bemoaned the fact that her son was still not married. | I was sitting there with my Kazakh friend when one of the other women in the room began talking to whoever would listen. She bemoaned the fact that her son was still not married. |
| "How can this be when he is such a good boy?" she asked with overly dramatic wide eyes. | "How can this be when he is such a good boy?" she asked with overly dramatic wide eyes. |
| Casting them over the handful of women in the room, she finally rested their gaze on me. "Devushka [girl] – you're not busy right now? Good. You can rub this honey on me." | Casting them over the handful of women in the room, she finally rested their gaze on me. "Devushka [girl] – you're not busy right now? Good. You can rub this honey on me." |
| I've been in the banya enough to know that this is a perfectly reasonable request to make of a stranger. I've just never had the privilege of scrubbing someone else with the sugary grit until this day. It's become a bit of a game for me here, seeing how long I can go in a situation before someone pegs me as a foreigner, so I wordlessly rose and proceeded to spread honey all over her back. But not even my oft-repeated silent mantra "be like a local, be like a local" could make me go further down than the small of her back, even though I know she is expecting me to continue on to her buttocks. While my mind is occupied with overriding my body's instinct to flee, her mouth is still yapping away and I find that I am half listening to her. | I've been in the banya enough to know that this is a perfectly reasonable request to make of a stranger. I've just never had the privilege of scrubbing someone else with the sugary grit until this day. It's become a bit of a game for me here, seeing how long I can go in a situation before someone pegs me as a foreigner, so I wordlessly rose and proceeded to spread honey all over her back. But not even my oft-repeated silent mantra "be like a local, be like a local" could make me go further down than the small of her back, even though I know she is expecting me to continue on to her buttocks. While my mind is occupied with overriding my body's instinct to flee, her mouth is still yapping away and I find that I am half listening to her. |
| "Ahh, devushka, this is good is it not? You are such a fine young girl. It's so hard to find a good girl these days. How will I ever find one for my son? I need to find him a wife that will be a comfort to me in my old age. Sometimes a daughter-in-law can be better than a son, yes? But, I need to find one like you who will look after me like this for the rest of my life..." | "Ahh, devushka, this is good is it not? You are such a fine young girl. It's so hard to find a good girl these days. How will I ever find one for my son? I need to find him a wife that will be a comfort to me in my old age. Sometimes a daughter-in-law can be better than a son, yes? But, I need to find one like you who will look after me like this for the rest of my life..." |
| Her voice, as sickly sweet as the honey I'm rubbing into her skin, glides over the drumbeat of my internal chanting "be like a local, be like a local". | Her voice, as sickly sweet as the honey I'm rubbing into her skin, glides over the drumbeat of my internal chanting "be like a local, be like a local". |
| Finally – it's over. Or so I think. | Finally – it's over. Or so I think. |
| "Thank you so much, now turn around..." | "Thank you so much, now turn around..." |
| • Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers from around the world. We welcome submissions – they should focus on giving our readers a clear sense of a place and its people – please send them to weekly.letter.from@guardian.co.uk | • Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers from around the world. We welcome submissions – they should focus on giving our readers a clear sense of a place and its people – please send them to weekly.letter.from@guardian.co.uk |
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