Janysh exudes composure. He's only 28, but he carries himself with maturity and walks with a swagger that looks like confidence rather than arrogance. This is remarkable, because Kyrgyz and Kazakh people, according to Rudi, have a sort of inferiority complex stemming from years of Soviet and Russian discrimination. (Yet, along with discrimination, the Soviets also brought development to Central Asia... few things are truly black and white.) Naturally, this inferiority complex doesn't plague Janysh's generation quite as much as the older generations, but it is still embedded in the culture, and Janysh is a prime example of what it can look like to grow beyond culture, yet still embrace your roots. Janysh lived in Norway for three years earning his masters degree in Environmental Health from Telemark University, and he speaks a fair amount of Norwegian in addition to Kyrgyz, Russian, and English. Prior to that, Janysh lived with his older brother Baysh while their father was drunk and not providing. Baysh now lives as a doctor in Canada, and helped to instill that progressive international mindset in Janysh. It turns out that a little bit of rebelliousness can be healthy when it's rebelling against a culture that suppresses growth and perspective. But for that same reason, Janysh can encounter trouble when trying to be an effective minister within his own culture. It is considered disrespectful for a young man to presume to teach the older generation. In that regard, Rudi's presence (even when he's not present) helps to empower Janysh, because Janysh can act as a manager who directs and teaches on behalf of Rudi, who is the boss, and an authority figure. Rudi is not looking to run the station in Bishkek. He is just looking to oversee it and enable the locals to run their own ministries, encouraging them to make a living, to use business as a mission and as a means for supporting mission, and especially to reach the culture through the radio, as the barriers of face-to-face interaction within the culture disappear over the airways.
Janysh has an equally confident wife named Saltanat, who also speaks English, and a 3-month old daughter named Christina who doesn't speak much of anything. Janysh speaks much of her, however, and he's clearly very proud of both of them, as he should be. Once again, the old adage proves true that behind every great man, there is a great woman. During our first trip around town, I continually used the word 'awesome', as I am wont to do, because I found a great many things to be really cool, and Janysh picked up on it. "What means this word 'awesome'?" he asked. I responded with a string of words he probably also didn't understand; kickin', groovy, wicked, fly, phat, etc. I explained that if I was a 'real' Christian, I would reserve use of the word 'awesome' for describing God only, because only God truly inspires awe. But I'm an American, and we think everything's either awesome or lame, so I apologized for my extraordinarily limited vocabulary, and furtively resolved to curtail my use of such facile terms until such time as a shrewd young gentleman the likes of Janysh might not be present to denigrate me for their usage. I'm sure that I haven't completely excised 'awesome' from my speech, but I'm trying. Nonetheless, Janysh has taken to using the word in my stead. He will frequently respond to a variety of circumstances in his most American-sounding accent, "AH-sum". At least he's using it correctly.
Today, we had the privilege of seeing Janysh's roots while doing ministry work at the same time. We piled into Janysh's right-hand-drive Honda CRV (many cars are right hand drive, but they still drive on the right side of the road) and headed for the outskirts of Bishkek. Our project for the day was the delivery of several small radios around the small village where Janysh spent no small amount of time when he was very small. Most of his former neighbors, and his parents themselves, are not Christians, so providing them with radios and the ability to listen to Radio OK has the potential to be quite transformative, and it was meaningful for Janysh. He knew most of the people we visited–including his grade school teacher from long ago–and they were quite receptive when presented with the little radios. I can't imagine anyone in a poor village really turning down free stuff ("Would you like a radio?" … "Ok."), but the familiarity did seem to help break the ice a bit. It didn't take long to make it around the tiny village, and several neighbors weren't home, so we headed back to his parents' house for lunch. Janysh's parents and younger brother Bakyt were very gracious hosts, giving us a tour of their simple residence and the garden where they grow all kinds of fruits and vegetables, including fresh strawberries. They're a little small, but they are absolutely more flavorful than American strawberries. Janysh's mother had prepared a delicious meal for us of rice with steak pieces and veggies, salad, and little pocket pastries which were strewn all over the low table. We sat on the floor of the one room house where they probably also sleep at night and enjoyed a family meal. At least I think we enjoyed it. I didn't understand most of what was going on. Hot tea was served, because hot tea is always served here. Anni suggests that "one heat pushes the other heat out", insinuating that drinking a hot beverage provides relief from the heat of the day. I'm not sure that's true, because I never seem to feel any cooler when drinking hot tea, but it's common across many cultures, so perhaps they're onto something. Or maybe everyone else in the world is just really strange.
After stopping by Janysh's apartment to meet Saltanat and Christina, we headed back to the station. Paguo OK is a station in Bishkek that FEBC took over about a year ago. The station motto is 'All About Family and For Family', and when they're not broadcasting automated music, they're relaying live call-in talk shows from Moscow, and even conducting talk shows themselves. The talk show format is something Rudi really pushes, because it's an effective way of communicating a message and being engaging for an audience without being preachy. "Christianity can't be hidden in a Muslim world," Rudi explains, "and we don't want to hide it, but we also can't go on the radio and preach, because we'll get shut down. So the family platform makes sense because even from within a corrupt government that has no Christian foundation, no politician would speak out against family. That would simply be unpopular in a society that values home relationships." So Paguo OK broadcasts a very eclectic stream of music, ranging from classical to jazz to pop, always with a steady diet of contemporary worship music thrown in, and talk shows about anything and everything with a family perspective, seeking opportunities to drop the Gospel in as often as possible.
Then Rudi saw an opportunity, and presented me with a scheme. "Would you like to go on air? We can do a short talk show as two guys from California visiting Bishkek–one of whom just happens to speak Russian–but it will be a good opportunity for our audience to practice their English and it'll be also good radio." After so many years in the ministry, Rudi knows good radio. "Ok." was my intentionally germane response. So I went from behind the camera to in front of the microphone. We were on the air with one of the 4 DJs, Rostislav, whom we call simply 'Ros' (and yes, he's Russian, so you can thank me for resisting the urge to drop in some painful pun connecting his name to his ethnicity). Ros cut the music and introduced us, at which point Rudi did his thing, introducing us both, and keeping it energetic before passing the conversation over to me. We talked about this being my first experience in Bishkek, how it differed from my other travels, my life as a photographer, and my perspective of the Lord's involvement in my life and work. Then we took calls. A few callers were interested in photography, and I explained more about subject matter and shooting style. One caller wanted to know what to do as a Christian being romantically interested in someone who is not. I didn't know we were doing that kind of talk show. I put on my Dr. Laura hat (yes, I have a Dr. Laura hat–it's one of those multi-colored brimless caps with a propeller on top, just like Dr. Laura always wears) and did my best to explain that because our spiritual foundation has bearing on everything else we do in life, it can be very difficult to maintain a relationship with someone who lacks that foundation because each person's values will be different. I wanted to be encouraging, and not crush this poor girl's hopes, so I said that of course she should pray for this person and hope that they come to know the Lord, but that she shouldn't 'flirt to convert' (an expression that I despise in the first place, and one that I'm sure was lost on my audience, both in meaning and in wordplay). If that wasn't tricky enough, my next caller asked me who I hope to be when I'm born again. She worded her question in such a way that it was difficult to tell whether she was referring to actual reincarnation, or to the familiar Christian expression. Hinduism isn't exactly common here, let alone any other 'ism' that professes spiritual transmigration, but I was thrown by the "who do you hope to be…" clause. I shot Rudi a bewildered glance, and he did his best to rephrase the question as he understood it, considering that he's more familiar with Kyrgyz and Russian accented speech. He confirmed the notion that she was actually asking about reincarnation as he restated. I was glad that she used the expression 'born again', because it gave me a great jumping-off point to explain that I believe I'm already born again as exactly the person I want to be–because it's who God created me to be–and that one rebirth is enough for me (and for God, too). After I think about 40 minutes, we signed off. Don't be surprised when I don't have time for you anymore because of my demand as a radio personality in Kyrgyzstan.
We wrapped up at Paguo OK with on-camera interviews of Janysh and another one of the DJs, Nargiza. Both of them speak English fairly well, but in the interest of comfortable, honest, and quick dialogue, we decided that I'd ask my questions in English, but they would respond in Kyrgyz. It's somewhat surreal to conduct an interview in which I have almost no idea what is being said. Unfortunately, it makes the prompts a bit cookie-cutter. "Tell me about your job here at Radio OK." "What are some of the challenges you face as a Christian in Bishkek?" "How can someone watching this pray for you?" Good questions, to be sure, but not exactly leading a natural conversation down avenues which might yield more depth. A few times, I was able to discern what they were saying using facial cues and tone of voice in conjunction with the context of what I had asked, and so I was able to lead a bit more, but generally, asking follow-up questions was nearly impossible. The honesty and fluidity of their native tongue will definitely work more effectively for the final product, however. It's just strange to try and respond with an interested and engaged nod of the head when I can't discern anything to warrant such a head nod. Nargiza is a young Kyrgyz woman with quite a story, as Rudi explained to me later. She lives in an area that's somewhat of a slum with her two brothers, one a Muslim, and one an atheist. She goes to school and provides for them in their parents' stead. Since the interviews, it has been fun to hear Nargiza's voice on the radio as we're driving around in the car. It's like I know someone famous in Bishkek. Our day concluded with an interview of a listener who was willing to speak on camera about how Radio OK has blessed her. We met her in the city center, and she immediately commented that she and her daughter had listened to the talk show earlier. It's like I AM someone famous in Bishkek. Rudi conducted her interview, which was funny in an ironic sort of way, because she interviewed entirely in English, but it was important for him to respond to her because he had more specific feedback questions in mind. We said "Do svidaniya" and I walked across the street to my hotel rewarded, thanks to a full stretch of actual ministry work. Even after a tiring day, I felt… awesome.
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