Happiness is a Choice

A couple years ago, when I was a junior in college, I lost my grandma. She passed away while we were thousands of miles apart. That same semester I got seriously ill with a bad fever and struggled with some other personal issues. My grandma’s death though was the absolute worst; I felt sick that I didn’t get to say goodbye and was vexed by guilt for not being there for her in her last months.

But junior year was not all bad news: I also got my dream internship with the US Department of State. I had the time of my life on that internship, which sent me all the way to Bahrain. I also met someone for whom I ended up caring deeply, more deeply than I thought myself capable of. And then that person was out of my life, too.

Those are not the only painful experiences I’ve had in my life, of course; like everyone else who walks this planet I carry baggage. The problem is not what happened, but how I dealt with it. For a long time I shut myself off, I’ve been cold and detached… and in a lot of ways miserable. I had so many amazing things happen to me, like getting a Fulbright, graduating, traveling; I have my family, my friends, and my good health. But still, I felt like something was missing.

I can pin that on my grandma’s passing, the people I lost, my failed relationships… and up until recently, I did. I blamed everyone and everything else for my misery.

This is not to say I was sad all the time, no. Miserable people can often experience happiness, enjoy certain experiences, even be grateful for all the good things in their lives but underneath it all there is a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning for something undefinable. That yearning is what kept me awake at night, so to speak, and prevented me from being a truly happy person.

Gradually, over the past couple of months, I began to see the error of my ways. It’s hard to explain exactly how or why I started reflecting on my own point of view because I can’t say it was one particular moment or epiphany. However, one specific experience really captures my journey to happiness- our visit to Artyom island.

Entrance to Artyom

Artyom or Pirallahi is an island about 45 minutes away from Baku. My friends and I decided to go there on a whim one Sunday, to explore and relax. There is really nothing special about Artyom, the biggest thing there is an oil refinery or some other oil-related industry. In fact, we got into a bit of trouble because we accidentally wandered onto SOCAR (national oil company) property and were detained by security until they took down our names.

After out little run-in with the authorities we went to a park where we met some locals who took us to the bazar- a warehouse with fake brands and ladies who told me it was not appropriate to wear boots in springtime.

 

Artyom Bazar

 

After that we went to this tiny little restaurant that didn’t even have a name. They served the best fish I’ve had in a long time, and people were super welcoming and friendly. After lunch we stumbled onto a chaixana (tea house) where we got the cheapest and most high-quality gallian (hookah) ever- 4AZN (about 6USD) for a hookah that lasted over an hour. Plus we got sweets, nuts, and tea for almost nothing. It was amazing. Finally, when we tried to get back to the city, we wandered around for a while looking for the bus, which never arrived. Instead we hitched a ride with a vegetable salesman with a van- my first hitchhiking experience ever!

Walking around Artyom, a pretty run-down area with seemingly nothing to offer and discovering all the great thing about it, plus enjoying the company of my amazing friends, really made me think. I realized that finding beauty and joy in anything is really just a question of your perspective. If you come in with a negative mindset, you’d see Artyom as just a decayed place… but if you look a little deeper you can find a treasure. That made me think about my life- how everything is really a question of perspective and how we process things. I used to hear that from others and write it off as feel-good BS, but now I see that being miserable and being happy are both choices we make.

We can wait for the day when we have a nice house, a brand new Mercedes, the perfect spouse, ideal job, and a Golden Retriever to be happy but the truth is circumstances do not determine happiness- we do it ourselves. So I am done waiting. I decided that from here on in I will wake up with a smile, think about all the positive things in my life and really feel the gratitude, and finally enjoy every day.

It works. To prove it I started the #100happydays challenge (check it out: 

HOME

). Every day I post something new that I am happy about, something that put a smile on my face that day, and yes- I have had something for every single day so far. Moreover, ever since I changed my mindset I have been feeling a lot better and things have been going infinitely better in my life. I can take bad news with stride and enjoy everyday experiences like a walk on the seaside with friends more fully. And it feels amazing.

Choosing to be happy doesn’t mean you can’t be sad sometimes (just like being in a state of misery does not preclude one from happiness). I have had challenging moments and disappointments. The difference is that now I don’t let them define me, I don’t sulk. I talk to a friend about it or process whatever happened, and then I move on.

The decision to be happy IS a decision, and it’s not for everyone. It took me a good, long while to get here. It’s a journey and not one I can say I have completed, nor do I believe I ever will complete. Don’t be judgmental towards people who aren’t there, it’s their choice to live however they want- being miserable is okay, too, and it’s important to respect other people’s space.

Rumi put best when he wrote, “Yesterday I was clever so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise so I am changing myself.”

A TRENDy Life

A few weeks ago a US Embassy staff member got in touch with me and asked if I was willing to work with some journalists to help improve their English. I didn’t know exactly what that would entail, but the idea of working with journalists sounded awesome, so I immediately said yes. I knew it would be super interesting to meet members of the Azerbaijani media and learn about their work, how they write, and what they are interested in. Generally meeting a new professional class sounded like a cool opportunity. 

What the assignment entails in actuality is working with two different news companies. With one of them, TREND News Agency, a media outlet which focuses mostly on economic news. TREND is also the only privately-owned newspaper in Azerbaijan. 

The journalists I work with there have an amazing level of English, which I was deeply impressed by. Moreover, it meant that my work with them would focus on developing their writing style and having discussions about advanced topics, which is really exciting for me as a teacher. Recently, for example, we debated Conchita Wurst’s role in the West vs. Russia dynamic. 

In addition to working with the staff on their English, I also get to do editing, which is really cool. Since my first internship, at B’Tselem (an Israeli human rights NGO), I have worked on writing, editing, social media, and other communications-related tasks so I find this kind of work very satisfying and enjoyable. In fact, upon my return to the US I hope to find a job in this field, so having this kind of experience is a huge privilege. Finally, I even got to publish an analytical piece of my own in the magazine! For a young professional in IR/Middle Eastern affairs, I felt incredibly honored to have such an opportunity. If you are curious about my piece, please follow this link: http://en.trend.az/regions/scaucasus/azerbaijan/2275611.html 

All in all, I love working at TREND. It added a whole new, fascinating, and fun dimension to my time in Azerbaijan. Not only am I doing stuff I love to do- teaching, writing, and editing- I also have an insider look into Azerbaijan’s media and I am blown away by the high level of professionalism and integrity. I know they will accomplish great things, and I am so honored to contribute, even a tiny bit, to this amazing organization. 

#Parksareforpicnics

It’s been a long while since I’ve updated this blog; I’ve been very busy over the past couple of weeks with new courses to teach, job applications, and end of the year events… not to mention spending what little time I have left in Baku with my awesome friends.

But a lot has happened and I want to share it all with you, dear friends, family, and others back home who are reading this.

The first story I feel I have to post about is my first Baku picnic. I am huge fan of picnics and in general lounging about, basking in the sun on a warm spring day. Since Baku is full of milli (national) parks, I thought it would be an excellent idea to throw a picnic for my friends.

On of my close friends and I decided on a park called Dede Qorqud, a lavish new park close to the city center. We set the date for Easter, a Facebook event was created, and the rest is history.

So we get to the park, a bunch of us meet up and choose a patch of grass to sit on, foolishly assuming grass is for sitting. After about 20 minutes, most of the group was already there, an elderly woman working for the park authorities came to yell at us. We ignored her, but then another woman came and again scolded us for having the audacity to sit on the grass.

“Why can’t we sit here?” One of the Azerbaijani speakers asked her.

“No one else is sitting.”

“So?”

“This grass is not like the grass in America, or Europe. It’s not good for sitting.”

After some arguing, she left us be.

We sat on blankets, ate snacks, sang songs as one of my friends played the guitar, and enjoyed a relaxing day in the sun. That is until the park lady decided she had enough of our shenanigans and turned on the sprinklers to make us leave.

But we did not relent, not entirely, anyway. We resolved that parks are for picnics, not just for looking pretty. So we moved our picnic to the concrete floor near the artificial lake (the “lake” is more of a swimming pool). We continued singing and chatting, thus proving that parks are indeed for picnics.

As it later turned out, being splashed is an Easter tradition (at least in the Czech Republic and E. Europe), so even the sprinkler incident was for the best. Overall, it was an unforgettable day. And ever since I have been the self proclaimed president of the Baku Picnic Club.

A Farewell to Carbs (Sorta)

Recently, Azerbaijanis alongside Iranians, Tajiks, and other nations in the region celebrated the spring holiday Novruz. Yesterday, I got to celebrate mine- Pesach (or Passover, as most know it).

Passover is more than just a spring festival; in fact, it is a highly important Jewish holiday during which we commemorate the liberation of our people from slavery in Egypt. To make a long story short, the Egyptian pharaohs kept the Jewish people as slaves until G-d sent Moses to set them free and bring them to the promised land. During the eight days of Pesach, us Jewish types do not eat any wheat-based products or anything that rises, really. Examples include bread, pasta, and cookies. There is a lot more to Pesach, however, I am the least qualified party to give such explanations.

In the weeks leading up to this most sacred holiday I must confess I was rather apprehensive. I had no idea where I could get my hands on matzo (one of the traditional foods of this holiday), or how I would have a Seder (the ritual feast on Pesach Eve). Here I am, stranded in Baku, I thought. No matzo for me, no services, no Seder. And then a holiday miracle of sorts happened- I received a call from the chief rabbi of Chabad Baku. He said my mom contact the rabbi in Boston, inquiring about their Pesach activities in Azerbaijan.

Of course, they were happy to receive me into the fold and I was invited to the communal Seder and even received a box of matzo.

Last night was Leil HaSeder, the first night of Passover, so I went to the synagogue to pray and attend the Seder with the rest of the community. Turns out that I live in the epicenter of Jewish life in Baku- between the Sephardi and Ashkenazi synagogues! Anyway, the Seder was an interesting experience; I sat at a table with a group of people I had never met before. I was nervous, because no one spoke English and my grasp on Russian is flimsy.

Despite the language barrier, everyone was very kind. The nice older lady sitting next to me made a point of becoming my Jewish grandma for the evening and kept serving me food. I also found that I could understand most of what everyone was talking about in Russian; a few holes here and there, but I understood a lot, which was encouraging. The conversation got pretty interesting- the lady next to me was telling us about how her family fled Ukraine because of anti-Semitism and chose to move to Azerbaijan instead of Russia because Russians are also very anti-Semitic. Here, she said, no one cares and no one bothers you about your religion or ethnicity. From my personal experience, I have to concur- Azerbaijanis are really good about religious pluralism. I’d be lying if I said there is no racism or animosity at all, but of course that can be said about any country. In times like these, when the world seems engulfed by hated, this is a really encouraging notion.

The Day I Learned I’m Meant to Teach

Those who follow this blog know that teaching here in Baku has been challenging for me. There have certainly been highs and lows, and at some points I felt pretty disheartened by having students who would not do their work or played on their phones in class. But while the lows have been low, highs have really uplifted me.

Recently I had a student apply for a State Department program that would allow him to travel to the US. He said he got the confidence to apply thanks to my class. I had students tell me they love me. Yes, love. Moments like that remind me of why I started teaching in the first place, but wanting to be something and knowing it is truly a good fit for you are two different things. Today I got the ultimate validation that teaching is what I am meant to be doing right now.

I had a pretty rough, whirlwind of a weekend personally. It started with an unpleasant conversation at the office, right before it was time to go home. It spiraled down, when I heard some unfortunate news. All the things that transpired, have been weighing on me as I had plenty of free time over this long weekend. My mind has been going non-stop trying to figure out solutions to my problems.

And then today rolled in and I had a lesson with one of my undergrad classes. For that hour, all my troubles melted away. I forgot about everything, and I was in the zone. I enjoyed hearing my students telling me about their weekend activities and doing the assignments I gave them in class. We worked on narration a lot, so the students came up with funny and creative stories that uplifted me and turned my frown upside down, literally. I felt enthusiastic, and was able to check all my problems at the door to engage my students and indeed I left feeling exhilarated.

When you can let all the personal bs go and get in the zone doing something, you know that something is what you’re meant to do. I cannot wait for my next teaching post.

Stop the Music

This past Monday, I was running a conversation club for my colleagues at the office. I had a topic in mind, but the team was adamant in requesting that we talk about the Khojaly Massacre, which took place today 22 years ago. 

I had already been aware that the tragic events in Khojaly are very much on the national mind. For example, when I visited an art gallery in Salyan a few weeks ago many of the local artworks featured Khojaly. Today, a day of mourning for the victims, I went to lunch with a local friend; she complained to one of the waiters about the fact that they were playing happy music on a day like this and he shut it down. Clearly, there is a national trauma here that needs to be confronted and dealt with. 

The conversation we had was very interesting, and I was amazed at how open everyone was in talking about their feelings and personal experiences regarding Khojaly and the Nagorno-Karabakh War in general. They shared not only their perspective on the events, but also the experience of transitioning from Soviet occupation to independence, and the impact the war had on their own lives; one person even spoke of their experience as an IDP (internally displaced person). 

At the end of the conversation I was informed that I was commissioned to speak at the commemoration ceremony, which would take place the following day. 

Initially, I was stomped. I really did not know how to approach this presentation seeing as all I could really say about Khojaly is that what happened there is horrifying and an example of some of the worst aspects of humanity. But then I thought about it some more, and had a realization- I, or rather we, the international community, can help heal this wound. And so I decided to focus my speech on breaking down the demand “justice for Khojaly”, which everyone made. 

So, what did I tell the international students I spoke to in this events? 

What happened in Khojaly was an offense against the entire Azeri nation, since the civilians who were murdered there were targeted for no other reason than their ethnic background. Therefore, justice in this case really means recognition. This recognition has two aspects. The first is internal; as Holocaust survivor, author, and activist Elie Wiesel said: “To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.” Therefore, giving people the space to talk about what happened, relay the story of what happened to their nation, is extremely important to the healing process. The second aspect is external, to have others accept that something awful happened here. 

That is where we, said international community, have a role to play. As part of my talk, I pledged to inform people back home about what happened in Khojaly. 

The history of how the massacre came to pass is actually very complicated. Of course it originated from the conflict over Karabakh (which I wrote about in a separate post) that had evolved into a full-fledged war after the fall of the USSR. In 1992, as the war raged, Khoajly was one of the towns where the majority were ethnic Azeris. In February 1992 Armenian forces, with the support of Russian troops, stormed the town. The exact reasons for this are contested by the belligerents, with the Armenian side claiming they were trying to stop the bombardment of their stronghold in the region and the Azeris arguing that the attack was staged to cleanse the region of Azeris. To be perfectly honest, I have not been able to find any primary sources to definitively prove either claim, though one statement by General Sargsyan who headed the Armenian forces at the time, indicates that there was malintent: “Before Khojaly, the Azerbaijanis thought that they were joking with us, they thought that the Armenians were people who could not raise their hand against the civilian population. We were able to break that [stereotype]. And that’s what happened.” (the quote is taken from Thomas de Waal’s book, Black Garden). 

Even if one accepts the claim that the Armenian operation was strictly defensive, this does still not absolve the military from making the maximum effort not to harm unarmed civilians. This was not at all the case here. The Armenian forces shot indiscriminately at the town’s population, including at people who were fleeing. According to renowned human rights organization, Human Rights Watch: “A large column of residents, accompanied by a few dozen retreating fighters, fled the city as it fell to Armenian forces. As they approached the border with Azerbaijan, they came across an Armenian military post and were cruelly fired upon.”

Furthermore, photographic evidence and testimonies by survivors indicate that the Armenian soldiers ruthlessly tortured the townspeople and mutilated some of the bodies. 

Official statistics put the number of victims at 613, including men, women, and children. 

Regardless of what anyone may opine about the war, what happened in Khojaly was an atrocity that must be condemned in the strongest terms. 

It is my sincere hope that readers will not take this as cause to hate Armenia; more animosity is not what this troubled region needs. Instead, those reading this should simply be aware of the fact that 22 years ago something truly heinous happened in Khojaly and remember that this is the price of hatred and lack of compassion. Tragedies such as these happen as we fail to put a human face on the “other”, the “enemy”- this is why we need to build bridges and learn to understand one another, it is the only way to build lasting, sustainable peace. 

Salyan

 

Since the end of December, just as the new year was about to roll in, most universities in Azerbaijan went on winer break, which will last until the middle of February. As a teacher, I also get vacation time by default. One of the things we were asked to do during this vacation has been to visit American Corners in the regions, a request I was delighted oblige. It’s a great opportunity to really promote cultural exchange, my raison d’être in coming to Azerbaijan, and a chance to see Azerbaijan beyond Baku.

The first place we were sent to was Salyan, a town located about 2-hours south of Baku. To be honest, I was not expecting much of the visit and thought it would be 100% work- come in, talk to the kids, go home. I was pleasantly surprised.

We were greeted by one of the English teachers, who was very interested to know how our journey was. She took us to the American Corner, which is located in the town library. There we were greeted by a couple of really kind and welcoming young women, both of which were eager to get to know us and ask questions about the US. They were also very enthusiastic about learning English; one of the young ladies in particular was very keen on improving her skills and hopes to go the United States one day, a statement which I was really impressed by seeing as I am a great one for working and studying away from one’s home country.

After tea, the ladies took us on a tour of the town. Our first stop was one of the town’s old mosques; it was built several centuries ago, but recently had to be reconstructed due to structural damage. Next we visited the local Heydar Aliyev Center. I had been to the one in Baku, which is of course architecturally striking and has a really nice museum showcasing artifacts of Azeri culture. This one was quite different; it similarly had photos telling Mr. Aliyev’s story, but it also serves as a community center fully equipped with a computer lab, language center, library with books in at least 3 languages, a chess room, and an art studio. It’s good to know the government is investing in creating spaces for people in all parts of the country to develop themselves beyond the classroom.

My favorite part of the tour was the last one- the local art gallery. On our way there, incidentally, we ran into one of the famous local singer. “His name is Shahin, like Shakira.” One of our new friends joked. Anyway, we walked into this space full of locally painted works. The gallery owner, a famous painter in his own right, greeted us himself and showed us through the gallery. Here is one of his works:

 

It is a painting of Ismailly Rayon (a region of Azerbaijan). He is a very gifted painter, who in addition to running a gallery and creating art also teaches in the gallery studio.

The day commemorating the Khojaly Massacre is coming up in about a month, and in preparation for that the students painted on the subject:

While evidently the images are violent and unsettling, I appreciate the effort. Having worked for the Peacebuilding and the Arts program at Brandeis, I truly believe art can play a huge role in helping people deal with national trauma and conflict. It’s a medium of expression and expression is the first step of coping and moving on. I hope this serves a platform for people to confront their emotions about these awful events, pay respect to the dead, and find ways to to overcome the pain and make peace.

Upon the conclusion of our tour, we got lunch at the American Corner, which was prepared for us by our new friends. I never cease to be amazed at how kind and generous people here are.

Meeting the young students was also a lot of fun. My students in Baku are all in college, so of course they are in their late teens. These kids were ages 8-14 or so (a few were older) and I was not sure I’d be able to work with them, because I am not used to teaching children, but the meeting went swimmingly. It was the first time I faced a group of students who were not all over their iPhones the entire session. The kids were eager to play games, they were funny and cooperative, and they seemed to really enjoy all the activities we had prepared for them.

Overall, the visit was a great success. I cannot wait to check out ACs in other regions.

Further reading: 

• http://azerbaijanamericaalliance.org/Khojaly-Massacre

 

Shahdağ

5am. Sunday. My alarm goes off, to my dismay. It was time to get up and get going.

The gas in my apartment was out so my apartment was frozen, so I rolled out of bed and quickly wore the warmest cloths I could find. I packed some vegetables I had left, and skiddadled to meet my friends at the appointed meeting spot.

About 12 of us rendezvoused and hopped on a small bus in the cold, dark morning ready to set off on a 3-hour drive to Shahdağ. Shahdağ is Azeri for “king mountain”, and is a skiing resort in the northern part of Azerbaijan.

For clarification, I do not ski. I tried once, about a decade ago, failed miserably and decided it was not for me. Why did I go, then? Baku, like any big city, can be tiring. Getting away to a place with fresh air is an opportunity to relax, see something new, and have some fun with friends.

Having decided to wash my hair and blow dry it until 1am the night before, I spent most of the ride up to Shahdağ sleeping. Once we got there, I settled down at the cafe, ordered some hot coco, and spent the day with the other non-skiiers in my group of friends. Of course we did not spent the whole entire day sitting inside; we also went up on the lift to the top of the mountain. The view was spectacular, and playing around in the snow was fun. It was reminiscent of home, as Boston is often covered in snow during the winter months.

 

All in all, I had a great day and I cannot wait for the next adventure!

Jazzerbaijan

In the beginning of the week, a friend invited to go to a jazz concert. Since I have little to do with my free time other than read al-Jazeera in Arabic and I’m an extrovert and therefore cannot stand to be alone, I agreed. To be perfectly honest I have never been hugely into jazz; I have a Rahsaan Roland Kirk album on my iTunes that someone recommended and I like it okay, but other than that I really don’t know too much about the genre. Thus, I was not sure what to expect.

The concert hall, which called the Mugam Center, is a really beautiful venue. It is located on the shore of the Caspian sea, on what is called “Boulvar”, across from the Four Seasons. This is one of the most modernized and beautiful parts of Baku. Already, being there was a treat.

The concert was also really good. The introduction was in Azeri so I don’t actually know what was said, but I heard the words “America” and “New York” after the artists’ names so I’m guessing one or all of them were trained in the States. And they are excellent. The set was fun, touching, and inventive. The group fused elements from traditional Azeri music, called Mugham, with jazz which I thought was very cool. They also performed a jazz rendition of Daft Punk’s Get Lucky that I liked a lot.

Overall it was a really nice concert with impressive young artists. I definitely plan to make an effort to see more.

20 Yanvar

Today, January 20th, marks a day of mourning- Black January (or Qara Yanvar in Azeri)- in Azerbaijan. While most businesses remain open, many people got the day off and symbols of grief were spread out throughout Baku. In the metro, for example, red carnations with black ribbons were hanging everywhere and sad music was playing the background.

So what happened on Jan. 20th?

The year was 1990. The USSR was crumbling, and the nations under its occupation were gradually seeking independence. Azerbaijan, which had been under the Soviet thumb for some 70 years was among those nations trying to achieve freedom. Matters reached a boiling point when the Supreme Soviet of the Armenian SSR tried to legally annex Nagorno-Karabakh, a region that remains under dispute today (see my article about NK for more details about that). Azeris took to the streets in early January, demanding sovereignty and separation from the USSR. The protests lasted for several weeks, until the central authorities in Moscow dispatched military and KGB units to Baku.

On the night of Jan. 19th, close to midnight, the Russian armed forces attacked the Azeri protestors. The unarmed Azeri civilians were crushed by tanks and fired at with guns; the bloodshed lasted for three days and according to this (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/1477933.stm) BBC report, led to nearly 140 deaths and between 700-800 injuries.

Thus, today Azerbaijan remembers its fallen brethren, who died fighting for liberty.

This year, Qara Yanvar coincides with MLK Day in the United States. As Azeris commemorate the sacrifice of those protesters who stood up for independence, we Americans remember a man who became the symbol of fighting for justice. Both leave us with an important legacy: nothing come for free in this world. If we want to change things, to move forward, we have to constantly toil and strive for better. In the words of the great Martin Luther King, “Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle.”

May all those who gave up everything in the fight for justice rest in peace, and may we all learn the important lessons they taught us not with hatred or animosity, but with a desire to move forward and improve the world by means of peace and through love for all of humanity.