Mafia Wars and Par-tay at the Kvartir-ay

On Wednesday I was invited to KGU (Kalmyk State, as the local university is called) to speak to an English-language class and play a game called Mafia Wars. After making small-talk about the United States, Buddhism in Kalmykia, and Avatar (there’s no 3-D version here in Kalmykia; yeah, capitalism!), we got down to the order of the day. Mafia Wars is supposedly all the rage in Russia right now.

The premise is this. You get together a group of ten people or so, and pass out cards. Someone serves as a moderator of sorts. On the cards is an identity. There are four identity categories: mafia, sheriff, doctor, and citizen. The mafia, there are usually three or so, have the right to ‘kill’ someone at night. Night is followed by day, during which those who are still alive vote on who they think is part of the mafia. This is done by discussing anything that they might think is of relevance: movement during the night, nervous glance, fidgeting hands. The mafia has a vote, too, so you have to be observant in noticing who votes for and against whom during this part of the game. The sheriff, meanwhile, is able to ask the moderator who they think is part of the mafia, while the doctor is able to save someone who has been killed during the night. Usually, it makes the most sense to save yourself if you’re the doctor, since you don’t know who has been targeted by the mafia. The game goes on until either all the mafia has been killed or all the citizens (who don’t have a special role) have been.

We played three rounds, and then Valeriy, his friend the bureaucrat Mergen, and Andrey, who is a graduate student in linguistics (and speak impeccable English) at KGU came over to my apartment (in Russian, kvartira) for a get-together. This is another Russian tradition, referred to as going v gosti. Mergen has shot a hare and made a stew, which was actually pretty delicious, and since it wasn’t lamb, I was game. Not sure if the pun is intended or not here, I haven’t decided. Anyways, we toasted to friendship, a productive month of work, to me getting a real job at an actual, accredited university at some point, and, rather touchingly, to my family. Valeriy is, thankfully, a bit of a teetotaler, since, like everyone else who has a car here, he serves a shuttle service for family and friends. This is was a chance to loosen his belt and enjoy some Dagestani cognac. I meant to take a couple of pictures during the gathering, but forget. Instead you get a lovely view of room one (the kitchen) of my Elista apartment, above. You have to keep watching the blog for a shot of the living/bedroom. Don’t worry, the sultan’s harem this is not.