Charades with the Plumber

My roommate Rachel and I have decided that when we return to the States, we will dominate in the game of charades. "Why?" you ask. Well, since our Russian is limited to a few survival phrases, a few random words, animals, numbers, and colors, when trying to communicate with locals we usually end up doing a type of charades. I'm sure it looks positively ridiculous. That's probably why I often get laughed at at the grocery store (which here is called a magazine). Just picture me doing charades to a clerk in the middle of the store, and you'll have the idea.

So, yesterday I had a brand new cultural experience. We've been having plumbing problems in our apartment and so our landlord had a plumber come. Now, there a couple of things you must understand. 1) our landlord speaks absolutely no English, so to communicate with him we go through a guy who works in the office of our school 2) as stated above, I know barely any Russian and there are certainly no words pertaining to plumbing problems in my vocabulary and 3) last time I got an interpreter to come when we had a plumber, but this time no one was available to translate.

Ding-dong. The doorbell. Rachel was talking to her family online, so I got up to answer the door. As I walked to the door, all the warnings about answering the door that I'd heard since arriving in Kazakhstan ran through my mind. "Don't ever open the door for anyone you don't know...especially the police!" People have vanished after doing that here. Even our landlord had commanded us not to open the door for strangers or the police. I peered through the peek hole. I saw a tall, scruffy, tough-looking man. Was this the plumber that we were expecting? I had no way to be sure unless I opened the door. I hollered for Rachel to come. My heart pounding so loud I thought all nine floors of our apartment building could hear it, I undid the three bolts on our door and opened it. As he said something I didn't understand in Russian, I noticed something I hadn't seen from the peek hole...he was dressed head to foot in army camouflage. But that was the best part...oh, no! The best part was that he was holding a hot pink "Mary Kay" plastic bag! I had the hardest time not bursting out laughing!

Now, you must understand, here in Kazakhstan everyone walks around carrying their things in plastic bags and the culture here doesn't have a problem with guys and pink. But from my perspective the tough man in camouflage carry a hot pink "Mary Kay" bag was hilarious! I wanted to take a picture so badly!

Well, I asked him if he was the plumber, repeating the word plumber and trying to demonstrate with my hands. He didn't understand. How could I get him to understand? I said, "Toilet?" and pointed into our apartment. He looked at me funny and said, "Nees niyou." (I don't know.) Bother! This wasn't going well. In exasperation, I yelled for Rachel again, adding, "I need you!" and invited the man into our apartment...praying fiercely all the while that this was the plumber. Whoever he was, I was going to send him into our bathroom.

After he removed his work boots, he followed me into the bathroom where I explained in English and hand motions that there was nasty water and junk spurting up through our tub drain and the washing machine pipe, when we tried to do laundry our bathroom flooded, and our tub wouldn't drain. He asked me a couple of questions which I thought I kind of understood and did some more charades to answer. "Finally!" I thought, as he pulled some well-used, rusty tools out of his pink "Mary Kay" bag. At this point Rachel appeared. I was catching her up on what I thought was going on, when suddenly, "ring-ring-ring, ring-ring-ring." The telephone! Great! Now what?! I dashed into the family room and grabbed the phone. "Hello?" A women jabbering in Russian. "Eez vanitcha. Ya nee paneemiyou, " was my apologetic reply. (translation: I'm sorry. I don't understand.) click The women had hung up on me! Well, I guess I couldn't blame her. I headed back to the bathroom to check on the progress of the plumber.

When I arrived back on site, Rachel asked if she could go back to talking with her family. *sigh...* "I don't really want to do this myself," I thought, "but I know how it is to want to talk with your family while you can...she's in the next room if I need her..." "Sure!" I told her.

Well, shortly after she left, the plumber asked for something in Russian. "What in the world is he asking for? I haven't a clue!" Well, he started trying to demonstrate with his hands...I guess charades is the universal mode of communication if you can't communicate through speech. Well, it took a couple of tries...I brought him a couple of things which weren't what he was looking for, but eventually I hit on the right thing! Yay! I got it! Success is a nice feeling.

Ding-dong! WHAT?! The doorbell?! Now who's here?! We're not expecting anyone else! Slightly annoyed and a little anxious, I walk to the door and cautiously lift the covering on our peek hole. A babushka! On our doorstep! Oh, my. Well, there are three of us girls and a plumber if she's up to no good and I have my cell phone in my hand if I need to call for help. I unbolt the door and let a stranger in for the second time that morning! She starts talking to me in Russian and eventually after a bunch of charades and random Russian on my part, figure out that she needs our plumber.

This is soooo weird and random! So, I pointed around the corner and said "professional" and "plumber", hoping she'd understand. Well, I led her to the bathroom and she and the plumber immediately begin speaking rapidly in Russian. I don't understand any of it except for a random word here and there. I wish I knew what they were saying!

Well, our tough plumber eventually put his tools back in his pink "Mary Kay" bag and he and our downstairs neighbor (I figured out that's who she was) put their shoes back on, I paid the plumber the exact amount of tenge he requested, and they were gone. click, click, click Our door is bolted and once more it is quiet in our apartment.

As with all of my favorite stories, this one has a happy ending. We can now do laundry without our bathroom flooding, there is no nasty water or gunk coming up our tub drain, and we can take showers again! HOORAY!

I love it when charades works.