Battle for the Fridge

by Scott

Everyday is a battle for us here in Olgii. If it's not trying to wrangle something productive from our our work environments then it is dealing with blown electrical outlets, falling plaster, water outages, or non-flushing toilets at home. Ah, the joys of being in the Peace Corps. Our latest battle was something new for us, though, and it pitted us head-to-head with my school director.

In Mongolia, PCVs live in housing arranged by their agencies according to guidelines set by Peace Corps. Most of these guidelines are for safety reasons and they are housing structure specific. For instance, those in gers must have PC-provided fuse boxes installed and their water supply must be a reasonable distance from their outhouses. The guidelines also include a list of basic furniture that agencies must provide their PCVs -- nothing too fancy here but beds, tables, chairs, wardrobes, and perhaps a couch. With this said, these are just the guidelines. The reality is that some PCVs get less and others get way more (ahem, microwaves and washing machines).

All in all, our living situation isn't too shabby. Some of our ger-dwelling friends and others in, how should I say, more "rustic" living situations like to point out that since moving into our apartment we have joined the "Posh Corps." Anyways, our place is small but homey. We don't have all of the furniture we are supposed to have (a wardrobe or desk), but we chose not to make a fuss since we were given a refrigerator by my school director. I know some of you may be wondering why a refrigerator would be necessary in a country with 9 months of freezing winter, but it has been surprisingly handy this past year. Having the refrigerator has allowed us to stock up on fleeting items like cheese, yogurt, and sour cream as well as preserving leftovers from pizza to spaghetti sauce to tortillas. Basically, considering how important good meals have been to us during our time in Mongolia, they would have been virtually impossible to make and keep without our refrigerator.

So you can imagine the feelings of panic, anger, and even rage we experienced when we got a call from my counterpart, Bahitgul, the other day saying that my director was headed to our apartment to take back her refrigerator. What the what?!? After some initial sputtering on the phone, I managed to get a few more tidbits out of Bahitgul: the director needed the fridge to store a freshly slaughtered sheep; Bahitgul wasn't sure if and when we would get the fridge back; and the director didn't seem to care that we have to come to rely on the fridge for basically all of our food and that at that exact moment it was fully stocked, including with a range of perishable goods that we brought back from America.

This type of exchange perfectly sums up everything that we struggle with here in Mongolia: the instability of our living arrangements (has anyone back in America had to move or relinquish furniture at the whim of their boss?), the perceived complete lack of courtesy and understanding (why did my director have to come at that exact moment -- why not give us a week's heads-up?); and the difficulty of the language barrier (it was frustrating not being to communicate directly with my director in any of her 3 languages and having to put Bahitgul in the middle of the situation).

While our philosophy most of the time here in Olgii is to just go with the flow and not make waves, Ashlee and I decided we couldn't this time: we had to draw the line. I called Bahitgul back and told her that the director could not take our fridge without arranging for a replacement and without giving us time to do something with our food. Then, getting a little excited, I told her how it just wasn't right what the director was doing and that we wouldn't stand for it -- everybody else may bow to her, but we would not. A little self-righteous, huh?

Fortunately, it seems the message got through. A half hour later, Bahitgul sent me a text message saying that our fridge was safe and that the director would look elsewhere for a place to store her dead sheep. Phew!

Looking back at it now, I wonder if I blew the whole thing out of proportion. Maybe it was just a miscommunication? Maybe I was too harsh in defense of our fridge? Maybe I offended my school director? Who knows?

Oh well, what I do know is that we didn't just roll over and let our fridge get taken away and that at this very moment it is humming along in our kitchen keeping our supply of condiments, dairy products, and American goods nice and fresh. Victory for the Burts.