You may remember the “Story of the Knitted Grinch”. That fateful day in December 2023 was a huge reminder to me to not be shy about getting to know my neighbors. I’ve definitely carried that lesson with me, especially during our time in Central Asia.
Getting to know my neighbors here hasn’t been easy. The language barrier is very challenging, because most of my neighbors speak “street” instead of “literary,” meaning they use more slang, words borrowed from other languages, and lots of shortcuts you won’t find in a grammar book. In spite of this, slowly slowly I’ve gotten to know my neighbor across the way (by neighbor, I mean we all share the same floor in a small apartment building). She is a sweet mom of 4, and Ru* (my daughter) and I enjoy spending afternoons in her home, usually sampling something delicious she’s made.
When we made the decision to go back to the States this summer, I began asking myself - what should I do with the time that remains? How can I invest well in the relationships in front of me? I called a friend one day, and she was sharing how she was planning a Galentine’s party for the ladies in her home group, as a way to get to know them better and celebrate even in the midst of some challenging times they are going through. I thought - what a great idea. Who doesn’t love a party?
Or rather, who absoLUTEly loves a party?
Answer - the incredible people of Central Asia. Oh, do they LOVE a party!
As I began dreaming up this Galentine’s event, I realized my puzzle had a missing piece - someone to help me. But who? I needed someone who understands the local language better than myself. Some who I could lean on to help me host. Preferably someone who would enjoy spending time with my neighbors…
I decided that if the Lord wanted me to do this party, He was going to have to show me who this someone was, because I was at a loss. A week or so went by, and suddenly, it hit me - my landlord!
For context, we rent our apartment from a local believer (“G”) in her mid 50’s. She is a gem - gentle, kind, and bold in her faith - but she only speaks Russian (of which I speak 0%) and a tiny bit of the national language (of which I speak maybe 20-30% at best). Because of this, there has been a barrier to deepening our friendship. However, her daughter (“E”) recently returned to the country after several years in Europe and is very confident in English. With E translating, it has been really sweet to get to know both of them! They also adore Ru, so when we get together, it’s always a mix of slow conversation, baby antics, and Russian children’s songs.
Later that week, I invited G and E over for tea and a Ru playdate and posed the question - would they help me host this party? They answered with a resounding yes, even offering to help me find decorations, buy food, and plan a game!
Over the next few weeks, we began gathering everything together. E and I got decorations from a section of the bazaar I didn’t even know existed. I went to the grocery store so many times that I learned the name of one of the workers, and she held Ru while I picked out colorful candies and chocolates for the party. I tested my korpucha (floor cushion) arrangement in the living room to see how many people could fit. I made a double batch of chicken rice soup, homemade brownies, and cleaned even the little corners behind the toilet (you know the ones I’m talking about). The week of, I wrote little invites and delivered each one in person.
Finally, the day came! First, I worked on filling all the small bowls and dishes with nuts and candies. Then I headed to the sambusa shop and ordered 3 kinds (meat, rice, and potato) of sambusas then dropped those off at the apartment before rushing back out again to buy fresh non (local bread) from the grocery store. On my way out of the store, I had this subconscious nudge to check my receipt (which I never do) and realized the cashier had only charged me for one bread, not two, so I ran back to make amends. Leaving the store, I nearly charged past G, who was on her way to buy fruit. We laughed, as we had both almost missed each other.
Back at the apartment, I began laying out decorations and food. G and E arrived and started working on the salads. They’d decided to make them instead of buy them, a sweet gesture! Russian salads are quite a bit different than American ones - the first salad G and E made was a layered plate of chicken, pickles, boiled carrots and potatoes, and beets with mayonnaise in between each layer, topped with pomegranate seeds. The second was chicken, corn, cheese and (you guessed it), mayonnaise. Served with ketchup pringles! (Personally, I’m not a fan, but my Auroran friends LOVE these salads!) Somewhere in there, Ru woke up from her nap and joined the party.
While we were skittering around, we heard a knock. Ten minutes early?! We weren’t prepared for that. Culturally, most people run late. I answered the door. It was my dear neighbor across the way (Faran*) bringing a hot plate of homemade kalama (the best bread ever - it’s like eating a giant chewy croissant)! She hurriedly handed it to us and said she was going to go get dressed up and gather the other neighbors. Meanwhile, my other neighbor, Sho* stepped out to collect her laundry from the corridor, and I asked her if she was coming. She said “yes, yes” in the noncommittal but polite local way and disappeared into her home again.
A little while later, Faran,* her 3 year old daughter Noz*, and another neighbor Nara* arrived. Faran was all dolled up - she’d put on her sparkly kurta (the national outfit - like a tunic with matching loose pants), blazer, and pulled her hair back with a bedazzled claw clip. Noz had a bow on her head she wasn’t particularly happy about. Nara wore darker colors, phone in hand, giving an air of mild indifference but offering me a smile and a plate of sweets nonetheless.
We welcomed them in. G and E introduced themselves to Nara, said joyful hellos to Faran, and “wow, you have grown” to Noz. Nara, being the most senior guest, took the seat of honor furthest from the door and Faran sat next to her. Noz discovered Ru’s basket of toys in the corner and busied herself. I took charge of pouring tea for everyone and G started up a conversation. E took care of Ru, who was attempting to pull toys out of Noz’s hands.
Hosting in Central Asia means constantly telling everyone to “eat, take, eat” and keeping their cups half-full (yes, half-full - half-filled cup means that you want to keep serving them, a full cup is a cue that they should end their visit). As I was re-half-filling someone’s cup, G got up to close the front door. “Wait, I’m hoping Sho will come,” I said.
Faran and Nara immediately began saying Sho would not come. “Her husband is strict” and “she’s protective of her children” and “none of us really know her” they said. It was nearing 45 minutes into the party, but we held out hope and left the door open. G and E began to serve their salads. These and several sambusas were mostly consumed when we heard a cautious knock at the door. It was Sho!
We welcomed Sho, her baby Abe*, and 2 young daughters into the mix and served them some tea and salad. Sho’s girls sat next to me so I helped them with sambusas and juice, while E played with Ru. Noz alternated between her mom and Nara. I love this about Central Asia - the kids can be with whoever and they will all be cared for. The conversation quickly took off to a pace that I could no longer track, so I busied myself with hosting, dishes, and attempting multiple times to (unsuccessfully) put Ru down for a nap.
Eventually, I served the soup. Big, heaping bowls of herby chicken and rice. Everyone protested, which is what you’re supposed to do… but then I realized it was genuine. Hardly anyone touched their soup! They’d all eaten too much salad and sambusas. As the party continued and the kids swirled around us, I quietly gathered everyone’s bowls.
I felt confused. Every party I’d ever been to was a feast. The hosts usually made me eat until I practically burst. Was I not doing my job well? I was so distracted trying to keep up with the conversation, managing Ru, and feeding everyone. Or was the soup not good? Maybe it was too salty. What was going to happen when I served dessert? I decided to wait a bit on that one.
Over the course of the next hour, I learned a little more about my neighbors. Based on G’s questions, Sho and Nara were newer to our building. Sho is the youngest of the group, just 23 years old. Initial interactions with her had suggested a kind yet reserved personality, but as we talked, I noticed her come out of her shell just a bit. She seemed content to simply answer questions and bounce her baby on her hip. Her two little girls joined Noz and Ru in collecting and playing with the mini fake candles on the tablecloth.
Nara, who is in her late 40’s, moved in while Nick and I were in the States. Sometime last fall, I received a massive plate of osh from her. Neighborly food gifts are normal, but… a huge plate of osh with another smaller plate of pickled veggies as a first time gift from someone you don’t know… is not. Confused, I had asked Faran about this. “Was there a party in apartment 17 last week?” I joked, thinking perhaps I had missed the occasion. Faran considered this. “No, but I did tell her you know English. Maybe you can help teach her daughter?” Ah, that made sense. Nara was offering gifts leading up to a big request. And the gifts kept coming. Yet, everytime I tried to talk with her daughter (who always delivered the food), she edged away. I continued to return their dishes full of my own food and treats, yet still, no requests or even passing comments were made. Given that most locals I’d met up to that point are extremely direct when they want something (i.e. shopkeepers in the bazaar asking me to help their son/brother/uncle get a green card for America), I decided they would request in their own time.
At the time of the party, this back and forth was as yet unresolved. Nara even picked up one of Ru’s baby books and casually asked if I spoke English, as if she didn’t already know. I answered yes, but she asked no further questions, so the conversation moved on. I could tell she was studying me, and, uncomfortable under her gaze, I decided it was time for dessert.
Baby Abe was not enjoying himself. Poor Sho. She tried bouncing him, shushing him, offering him toys, but nothing worked. I even pulled out Ru’s bouncer, but he wasn’t a fan, though I did get him to smile a bit. His little cries got louder, and Sho decided it was time to leave. She gathered up her little family, said polite goodbyes, and disappeared.
Her family’s presence had brought a joyful chaos. The mood quieted as I offered everyone brownies. Again, everyone protested. But I had anticipated this and offered a second plate of even smaller brownies, just in case people wanted to try a little. Then I left to try to put Ru down for a third time, but she just screamed. Hard to sleep when there’s a party in the other room.
When Ru and I returned, a few brownies were missing. I silently acknowledged my small victory. And yet… there was still SO MUCH leftover food! What to do?
Part of hosting is continuing to keep the space clear of garbage and used dishes. I began gathering plates and pistachio shells and half-eaten cookies the little girls left behind. As I cleaned, I had an idea. Most hosts offer plates of food as people leave, so I arranged cookies, candies, and other untouched items on plates for Nara, Faran, and Sho and set them by the door.
The time to leave eventually came. Nara offered a blessing and everyone stood to leave. Leavings are slow events - full of chatter, half-speed movements, and the hosts protesting that everyone should “stay longer” and “eat more” and “come back again.” Once everyone was out the door (with their plate of cookies), I took the other plate to Sho. And that was that. The party was over.
… Except for the dishes. There were SO many dishes! Because they are incredible humans, G and E stayed an extra hour to help me clean up. I (finally) put Ru down for a nap, and then we shook out all the korpuchas, vacuumed, put all the food away, packaged food for G and E to take home, and washed about 62% of the dishes before the hot water tank gave up.
While we cleaned, they filled me in on all the bits of conversation I had missed, helped me remember names, and processed some of the funny and/or awkward moments that happened. This to me was the greatest gift - hosting with G and E meant we shared the highs and lows of the experience together and could bond over it.
We finally reached a point in the cleaning process where G and E were satisfied enough to leave the rest to me (basically, they did everything). As they packed up, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for these two ladies who chose to set aside their free time to not only help me host a party, but to prep, cook, and clean for it, and then translate for me and watch my baby in the midst of it. As I shared these things, G smiled. “I don’t like planning, but if someone does the planning, I like to help. I am glad you planned this party. It was beautiful.”
I don’t have a pretty conclusion to this story. Probably because it’s not over. I’m still learning how to interact with my neighbors. I’m still tripping over my sentences and struggling to understand theirs. I’m still surprised by gifts of food at all hours of the day (and night). I’m still unsure what Nara wants from me, still sensing Sho’s standoffness, and still finding time to sit in Faran’s house.
But, some things have changed. Sho’s little girls now love to come bang on our front door and climb on our stroller parked outside and give Ru candy when we walk by. Faran checks in more often and Noz has run into our house more than once when the door was left open. Nara, well, I’m not sure. But she still makes me osh about once a month!
*Names changed for security and/or privacy