29 January 2010, Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan

I left the office last night and walked out into a light crystalline snowfall that stung my face with its bitter cold. Night before last I worked a split shift with Ruben to learn the other half of the job, but when I walked in at ten minutes before seven Rita, the dayshift manager, was already gone. I asked Akyl, one of our “K. P.’s” (Kyrgiz Partners), if Rita was still around. “No, I think she already gone,” he answered. I hung my jacket up, took a walk through the building to check on the soldiers and sat down to work the counter and wait for Ruben, who came in about twenty minutes later. Ruben went to his office behind the supply room and came right back out. “Do you know where Rita is,” he asked with his heavy Spanish accent. “Akyl told me that he thought she’d already gone home.” Ruben’s expression narrowed and grew very serious. “Her coat, her purse, her cell phone, her make up—everything, is still back in the office.”

I called the Deputy Site Manager. “It’s past the time for Rita to leave for the city and her things are still in the office, but she’s nowhere to be found. The shuttle driver is calling to find out if she’s going with them tonight.” The Deputy Site Manager’s voice was clearly concerned. “I’ll make some calls. When was the last time anyone there saw her?” After asking the workers we told him that it had been since just a little after two o’clock. His voice was slightly shaking as he tried to maintain calm. “I’ll call the clinic to see if they have record of her.”

A few minutes later Rita walked through the door. Her demeanor was sheepish when we asked if she was all right. “I was at the clinic. They were supposed to call and let you know where I was.” Her eyes began to well up as she walked past and moved to the back office. I gave her a few more minutes to gain her composure before I walked back to see if she was OK. “I have a staph infection and they lanced it at the clinic. It made me sick and they told me to lie down. They were supposed to call.” “But are you OK,” I asked again. “No. I wasn’t supposed to go to the clinic and I knew it. I was supposed to find a doctor in town. I’ve given my notice and I’m going home on the first of February.”

I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t know what to think. The Deputy Site Manager came into the office about ten minutes later. “She violated the terms of our contract. Because of her actions, the entire contract could be taken away from our company.” So that was it. People were beginning to fear for their secure jobs.

Yesterday I spent my time learning the operation without any guidance. I had the K. P.’s walk me through some new things that I needed to learn. At noon Brian, my boss, came in for the first time since I’ve been here. “I’m sorry that I haven’t come by to meet with you sooner but I’ve got a million things going on all at once.” His eyes darted around the room as if he was looking for something else to concentrate on and I could see the lie in his eyes.

“Are you happy here,” he inquired. “Yes. So far, so good,” I replied with a smile.

“I want happy employees. If you’re not happy here, I don’t want you here.” I forced my smile out just a little wider. “

Anyway, I need to get the time sheets. They’re due today.” He hurried back to the office and collected the time sheet folder and then whisked by me as he scurried out the door. Interesting first meeting, I thought to myself. Not pleasant at all.

Andy, the Quality Assurance Manager, came in a couple of hours before lunch and sat down in the den to watch a movie that one of the soldiers had put on the big screen TV. I made several rounds of the building and noticed that he didn’t move. After the movie ended he came out to me. His eyes were red, as though he hadn’t found any sleep for days.

“We need to go back to I.T. and get your password so that you can get on the computer and be a happy, productive employee.” There was that happiness thing again. I began to wonder what was going around about me.

“Don’t you mean a healthy, happy, productive employee?” He didn’t seem to grasp the slight sarcasm. “Uh, yeah,” he slurred. There was a hint of last night’s vodka in his speech and gait.
We rode the shuttle bus to I. T. “You go upstairs and get your password. I’ll be in the DFAC.” He turned toward the half-cylinder shaped tent and walked away. I walked up the stairs and down the hall of the old Russian-built edifice.

“What can we do for you?” The man didn’t even raise his face from his computer screen, but continued to stare at the blue light.

“I’m here to get my password. I came in a couple of days ago and took the computer test.” He paused whatever he was doing and looked up for the first time. He stared at me blankly.

“Jed Clark. I came in two days ago to take the test to use the government computers.” There was still no recognition.

“Hang on,” he told me. He shuffled through some papers on his desk. “Oh, yeah, let me get on this other computer and we’ll get you set up.” The process only took a couple of minutes and I was going back down the stairs and toward the DFAC tent, wondering why he hadn’t just given me my password when I took the test.

I found Andy sitting in front of another big screen TV, taking advantage of a free meal. He looked up in surprise, “You done already? Want some lunch?” It was too early for me to eat.

“No, thanks, but you take time to finish.” I looked around the tent at all of the pilots who sat there, quietly eating and sipping their coffee. These guys are just kids, I thought. Andy ruminated his food, taking in the movie that flashed on the screen in front of him.

“How long have you been here,” I asked.
“Five years,” he answered.
“You’ve been on this base for five years?” I could hardly believe that someone could spend that much time away from the States.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“You must enjoy your job here.” Of course he enjoyed his job here. He sat in front of one big screen after another all day long and grazed.
“Yeah, I don’t see any need to go back to the States. I can do everything here that I can do there.” (I thought, “No, because in the States you’d actually have to do some work for your money, but so many contractors are just like him.”)
“So, after five years you must have found ways to spend your time here, right?”
“Yeah, every Monday, Thursday and Saturday I play hockey with the local Russian team.”
“Did you play hockey back in the States?” He continued his rumination. “Yeah. Are you ready to go?” I’d been sitting there watching him eat for ten minutes. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Once I arrived again at Shooter’s I hung my coat up on the wall and sat down on a stool at the counter. Salamaat was sitting there, too. “Sir, you drink tea?” I felt the offer coming. “No, I don’t drink tea or coffee or alcohol and I don’t smoke.” His eyes exposed his disbelief. “You don’t drink vodka?” That was the question that most of the Russians would have. “No. I’ve never tasted alcohol.”
“Why?” The door had been cracked.
“It’s because I’m a Mormon.” I expected more questions, but was surprised by his reply.
“I worked in the DFAC for a while and there were two guys there who were Mormon. They tried to explain to me but I not understand.”
His questions continued about my beliefs. I ended up turning him over to the Church’s web site at mormon.org and showed him the Russian language version of the site. He was impressed. But I was even more impressed when I came back in the morning and he’d been reading on the web site.
“You believe that Mormon was prophet?”
“Yes.”
“You believe that Jesus was son of God?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are Christian?”
“Yes. Are you Muslim?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m Muslim but I like to learn about other religions, too.”

We continued to discuss religion until it was time for him to leave for the day. The snow continued to settle throughout the day, covering the tan buildings and tents with a thick blanket of pure white and the bare Poplar trees braced themselves starkly against a white Kyrgyz sky. My work day was mostly made up of gathering trash from the chairs after the soldiers had left the building, but it was interspersed with interesting and revealing events that cause me to marvel at the plan that God has for me. My part is so small, but it has such great potential that I’m excited to be here. I love you all! Jed (Dad)