they make more sense in chronological order, which means from the bottom up. The one on top, being the most recent, will make more sense after you have read the ones written and posted before it. I will date them from now on since I am posting en masse. Also, since I am posting al ot at the same time you may have to click 'older posts' to see them all. Sorry, it's the best I can do with limited resources.
This posting began with one called "Aids Awareness Bike Race" find it and you are at the beginning of October. Maztoa! (enjoy)
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Litchi Madness
If you’ve never eaten a litchi, go do it now. It’s cool, I’ll wait. I live in litchi territory, which means for the last month, our town has been flooded with them. Litchis from here go out by the truckload, in a steady stream of trucks going for weeks on end. It is great that they have an outlet. Most of them go to Tamatave and get shipped to Europe. People make a lot of money off of the litchis. Unfortunately, it is not the farmers, but they make a fair amount as well. More than on any other crops.
Everything had a season, which is kind of cool. No, I can’t get pineapples all year, but when they come in, they are fresh. And I appreciate them even more because I can get them now, and only for this month. Litchis are different. Yes, they are incredibly delicious, the best fruit I have ever eaten, but it would be cool to be able to buy bananas or vegitables in the market to. They are in season, but the people here don’t care about anything but litchis. I ask ‘do you have green-beans?’ they say ‘green-beans?! No! there are litchis!’ ‘yes, but what about something to add nutrition, or to have a little variety? ‘Litchis! Litchis!’ ‘I saw bananas on your tree, are you going to bring those to market tomorrow?’ ‘No, of course not! there are litchis! Litchis!!!’
It is rather amazing, this litchi-madness. I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it. There are so many they can’t eat or sell them all, and believe me, they try. The whole town is just crazy for litchis.
Dec 9, 2008
Everything had a season, which is kind of cool. No, I can’t get pineapples all year, but when they come in, they are fresh. And I appreciate them even more because I can get them now, and only for this month. Litchis are different. Yes, they are incredibly delicious, the best fruit I have ever eaten, but it would be cool to be able to buy bananas or vegitables in the market to. They are in season, but the people here don’t care about anything but litchis. I ask ‘do you have green-beans?’ they say ‘green-beans?! No! there are litchis!’ ‘yes, but what about something to add nutrition, or to have a little variety? ‘Litchis! Litchis!’ ‘I saw bananas on your tree, are you going to bring those to market tomorrow?’ ‘No, of course not! there are litchis! Litchis!!!’
It is rather amazing, this litchi-madness. I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it. There are so many they can’t eat or sell them all, and believe me, they try. The whole town is just crazy for litchis.
Dec 9, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving.
It is 28.5 degrees Celsius here, but the continuous rain and cloudy-ness today help it feel more like Thanksgiving. I won’t be having a turkey, or a feast of any kind today (beans and rice as usual) but in the spirit of the holiday I spent some time reflecting on what I am thankful for. One thing stands out right now and that is the Calixte family. They own the house I live in and are my neighbors. We share the compound (well, yard, laundry lines, washing area) so maybe we are more than neighbors in the usual sense. Think of me as renting a room in their house.
They are amazing and beautiful people. When I need reminding why I am here, I just need to think of them. They are friendly, understanding, extremely helpful and kind. I tutor their kids, they share their watermelon. They provide a real sense of security because I know that if anything ever happened to me, they would do everything they could to help. They really have welcomed me as one of their family.
In fact, I have just been talking to Mr. Calixte about traveling to Antalaha for Christmas and he told me two important things: no matter what anyone operating a boat tells me, they are not safe this time of year, and that when I travel, they worry about me and he wants me to SMS when I get to Tana and again from Antalaha.
I have not written about them before because I felt I would be unable to do them justice, their kindness and generosity are almost beyond description, but suffice to say that on this Thanksgiving, I am giving thanks to living with them.
November 28, 2008
They are amazing and beautiful people. When I need reminding why I am here, I just need to think of them. They are friendly, understanding, extremely helpful and kind. I tutor their kids, they share their watermelon. They provide a real sense of security because I know that if anything ever happened to me, they would do everything they could to help. They really have welcomed me as one of their family.
In fact, I have just been talking to Mr. Calixte about traveling to Antalaha for Christmas and he told me two important things: no matter what anyone operating a boat tells me, they are not safe this time of year, and that when I travel, they worry about me and he wants me to SMS when I get to Tana and again from Antalaha.
I have not written about them before because I felt I would be unable to do them justice, their kindness and generosity are almost beyond description, but suffice to say that on this Thanksgiving, I am giving thanks to living with them.
November 28, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving.
It is 28.5 degrees Celsius here, but the continuous rain and cloudy-ness today help it feel more like Thanksgiving. I won’t be having a turkey, or a feast of any kind today (beans and rice as usual) but in the spirit of the holiday I spent some time reflecting on what I am thankful for. One thing stands out right now and that is the Calixte family. They own the house I live in and are my neighbors. We share the compound (well, yard, laundry lines, washing area) so maybe we are more than neighbors in the usual sense. Think of me as renting a room in their house.
They are amazing and beautiful people. When I need reminding why I am here, I just need to think of them. They are friendly, understanding, extremely helpful and kind. I tutor their kids, they share their watermelon. They provide a real sense of security because I know that if anything ever happened to me, they would do everything they could to help. They really have welcomed me as one of their family.
In fact, I have just been talking to Mr. Calixte about traveling to Antalaha for Christmas and he told me two important things: no matter what anyone operating a boat tells me, they are not safe this time of year, and that when I travel, they worry about me and he wants me to SMS when I get to Tana and again from Antalaha.
I have not written about them before because I felt I would be unable to do them justice, their kindness and generosity are almost beyond description, but suffice to say that on this Thanksgiving, I am giving thanks to living with them.
November 28, 2008
They are amazing and beautiful people. When I need reminding why I am here, I just need to think of them. They are friendly, understanding, extremely helpful and kind. I tutor their kids, they share their watermelon. They provide a real sense of security because I know that if anything ever happened to me, they would do everything they could to help. They really have welcomed me as one of their family.
In fact, I have just been talking to Mr. Calixte about traveling to Antalaha for Christmas and he told me two important things: no matter what anyone operating a boat tells me, they are not safe this time of year, and that when I travel, they worry about me and he wants me to SMS when I get to Tana and again from Antalaha.
I have not written about them before because I felt I would be unable to do them justice, their kindness and generosity are almost beyond description, but suffice to say that on this Thanksgiving, I am giving thanks to living with them.
November 28, 2008
Vouloir c’est pouvoir:
‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way’, as we are fond of saying, but sometimes you need money too. I have a lot to say about the family with whom I share a ‘yard’ (same idea but concrete). It will have to be a separate entry, but for now I’ll just say that they are amazing people without whom the country would not feel like home to me.
Monsieur Calixte is a successful contractor, fluent in French, with a university degree in engineering. He is a hard worker, though now he has other people to do most of the work for him, but they have been working on the house next to mine since well before I got here. Why is it taking so long? Why do they work hard some weeks and not at all the next?
I asked him one day and was able to piece together this story in 3 languages. Apparently he worked too hard, and cashed out his capital. When he finished university he had capital to build with. This part is kind of hazy, but I know of at least 4 towns he has finished projects in and that he has at least 3 going right now. He gets lots of work from public works (currently building a central power station for the town) and his employees always seem to be busy with odd-jobs. But he is limited by the payment schedule of his finished projects, which in such a limited economy, is slow.
So now he has worked himself to a standstill. He has lots of equity, but no liquidity. That is to say that his completed projects pay off so slowly that he is severely limited in his current ones. There is no bank to loan to his buyers so they can pay him and owe the bank. If he takes a loan to finish his projects, he still has the same problem.
Monsieur Calixte is not alone in this, there are half finished structures all over the town, and now I know why. There is definitely a will, but it has to wait for the money to come in.
November 13, 2008
Monsieur Calixte is a successful contractor, fluent in French, with a university degree in engineering. He is a hard worker, though now he has other people to do most of the work for him, but they have been working on the house next to mine since well before I got here. Why is it taking so long? Why do they work hard some weeks and not at all the next?
I asked him one day and was able to piece together this story in 3 languages. Apparently he worked too hard, and cashed out his capital. When he finished university he had capital to build with. This part is kind of hazy, but I know of at least 4 towns he has finished projects in and that he has at least 3 going right now. He gets lots of work from public works (currently building a central power station for the town) and his employees always seem to be busy with odd-jobs. But he is limited by the payment schedule of his finished projects, which in such a limited economy, is slow.
So now he has worked himself to a standstill. He has lots of equity, but no liquidity. That is to say that his completed projects pay off so slowly that he is severely limited in his current ones. There is no bank to loan to his buyers so they can pay him and owe the bank. If he takes a loan to finish his projects, he still has the same problem.
Monsieur Calixte is not alone in this, there are half finished structures all over the town, and now I know why. There is definitely a will, but it has to wait for the money to come in.
November 13, 2008
Consider that a warning:
While sitting and looking at my swollen and red foot, I couldn’t help but think, “it could be worse, I could get malaria.” Don’t tell my mother, but I hadn’t been taking my malaria medicine. I am taking it now Mom, no need to worry.
I stopped taking it so I could sleep, which I couldn’t do while I was on it, and I can’t do now. For those non-medical in the audience, mefloquine is a medicine that prevents the effects of malaria from being felt, but it also causes intense night terrors, anxiety, sleeplessness and sometimes waking hallucinations. While I have not had any hallucinations that I know of, I can attest to the rest. Oh, and the long term effects are not well known, sometimes the side effects do not go away when you stop taking the meds.
There were not really many mosquitoes on the Plateau during training and I convinced myself that if I took precautions like using the mosquito net, bug repellent and wearing socks I would be fine. It worked there, but now I live on the coast. There are plenty of mosquitoes and it is definitely a malaria stricken zone. When I got that bite on my foot, I had to be realistic. I have consistently had bites on my ankle (where the malaria ones bite) that I was getting in the evening (when they come out) despite my best efforts with repellent and burning coils. I considered that bite a warning and it has been well heeded.
At least I know I have not gotten malaria yet. Even though its effects can be delayed I can be sure of this. My participation in sometimes-risky outdoor sports has prompted warnings of all kinds from my mother, my friends’ mothers and just about all of my female acquaintances. Their warnings range from general (don’t do anything stupid) to very specific (ex. don’t climb trees when your drunk), but never seem to make much difference. It is always right after I need it that their warnings come back into my brain. I hear their voices, clear as a bell ‘don’t go hiking by the river at night’ right when I’m in the middle of doing something sketchy. I was one mile away from camp on a ridge trail along the side of Eagle Creek in the Gorge in the pitch dark when I heard that one. Where were you when the sun was still up?
This means that since I have not heard the repeated admonishments of my female co-workers to take my medicine replayed in my head, it is not too late. This time I will take their advice, and all it took was three days of excruciating pain.
November 12, 2008
I stopped taking it so I could sleep, which I couldn’t do while I was on it, and I can’t do now. For those non-medical in the audience, mefloquine is a medicine that prevents the effects of malaria from being felt, but it also causes intense night terrors, anxiety, sleeplessness and sometimes waking hallucinations. While I have not had any hallucinations that I know of, I can attest to the rest. Oh, and the long term effects are not well known, sometimes the side effects do not go away when you stop taking the meds.
There were not really many mosquitoes on the Plateau during training and I convinced myself that if I took precautions like using the mosquito net, bug repellent and wearing socks I would be fine. It worked there, but now I live on the coast. There are plenty of mosquitoes and it is definitely a malaria stricken zone. When I got that bite on my foot, I had to be realistic. I have consistently had bites on my ankle (where the malaria ones bite) that I was getting in the evening (when they come out) despite my best efforts with repellent and burning coils. I considered that bite a warning and it has been well heeded.
At least I know I have not gotten malaria yet. Even though its effects can be delayed I can be sure of this. My participation in sometimes-risky outdoor sports has prompted warnings of all kinds from my mother, my friends’ mothers and just about all of my female acquaintances. Their warnings range from general (don’t do anything stupid) to very specific (ex. don’t climb trees when your drunk), but never seem to make much difference. It is always right after I need it that their warnings come back into my brain. I hear their voices, clear as a bell ‘don’t go hiking by the river at night’ right when I’m in the middle of doing something sketchy. I was one mile away from camp on a ridge trail along the side of Eagle Creek in the Gorge in the pitch dark when I heard that one. Where were you when the sun was still up?
This means that since I have not heard the repeated admonishments of my female co-workers to take my medicine replayed in my head, it is not too late. This time I will take their advice, and all it took was three days of excruciating pain.
November 12, 2008
A drama in three parts:
11/9/08, 7am: While in Vatomandry, I was bit by some unknown creature. It is somewhere between a mosquito bite and a bee sting. The bite is on the top of my left foot. It looks like a mosquito bite that I scratched, but has a four-inch red, painful and hot-to-the-touch circle around it. It is bad enough to make me limp and cancel my trip to the market. It is noticeably swollen. I don’t know what it was or if I should be worried, but for whatever reason I’m not. If it isn’t better tomorrow I might be. But it has been getting worse for the last 2 days and should get better soon.
11/9/08, 1:30: Ok, don’t ask me why I wasn’t worried earlier, but I am now. I circled the bite this morning, thinking to compare it’s size in the morning tomorrow, but it is growing before my eyes. It has already expanded half an inch beyond the line and I can no longer pretend I just did a bad job circling it. I can’t walk at all, it is continuously leaking fluid and my foot has swollen to about 3 times its normal size. Now I am a little worried; maybe it is time to call the doctors.
11/10/08, 11:30: Well, I can’t really walk. Yesterday one of my neighbors went to the hospital to get some medicine that the PC doctor prescribed for me. I am extremely grateful for his help, I couldn’t have gotten it myself. When I woke up today it had not gotten worse, which the doctor said was a good sign. However I still had to walk 1.5km to school on a foot so infected it would barely fit into my shoe. Now I am sitting again (see vacation) but this time with a good reason: if I put my foot down there is a terrible throbbing pain. I probably shouldn’t have gone to class, but there is so much to cover in the curriculum and not enough time to do it.
Update: Foot is getting better, I can walk. The real bummer is that I will never know what actually bit me. Somebody do some research and find the meanest-looking bug on the island and we’ll all agree on that.
11/9/08, 1:30: Ok, don’t ask me why I wasn’t worried earlier, but I am now. I circled the bite this morning, thinking to compare it’s size in the morning tomorrow, but it is growing before my eyes. It has already expanded half an inch beyond the line and I can no longer pretend I just did a bad job circling it. I can’t walk at all, it is continuously leaking fluid and my foot has swollen to about 3 times its normal size. Now I am a little worried; maybe it is time to call the doctors.
11/10/08, 11:30: Well, I can’t really walk. Yesterday one of my neighbors went to the hospital to get some medicine that the PC doctor prescribed for me. I am extremely grateful for his help, I couldn’t have gotten it myself. When I woke up today it had not gotten worse, which the doctor said was a good sign. However I still had to walk 1.5km to school on a foot so infected it would barely fit into my shoe. Now I am sitting again (see vacation) but this time with a good reason: if I put my foot down there is a terrible throbbing pain. I probably shouldn’t have gone to class, but there is so much to cover in the curriculum and not enough time to do it.
Update: Foot is getting better, I can walk. The real bummer is that I will never know what actually bit me. Somebody do some research and find the meanest-looking bug on the island and we’ll all agree on that.
Accentuating the unfamiliar:
With all of the PCVs in town for Jerijery (10 of us total), we decided to celebrate Halloween. I assumed it was going to give us a reminder of home and help us feel somewhat normal. Kathryne (Environment PCV 12 km from Vavatenina) wanted to carve a pumpkin, she had candy and some decorations.
The overall effect was very different. The juxtaposition of the traditional American holiday in Madagascar actually highlighted the strangeness. I ended up trick-or-treating for M&Ms at my own house. We carved a giant papaya. It was a lot of fun, but the absurdity of the papaya especially was a stark reminder that we were half the world away.
Watching Barack Obama’s acceptance speech had the same effect. It was broadcast live from Chicago on a cool autumn evening but we watched it at 8am when its already 85 degrees outside. Every once in a while things like this happen to me and it is then that I feel the most isolated. I am already very accustomed to the way things are here. I just take it as it comes and it feels like home. But when I dwell on the past or future in the U.S.A., I am confronted by a dichotomy that makes me feel both homesick and excited to be having this experience.
November 9, 2008
The overall effect was very different. The juxtaposition of the traditional American holiday in Madagascar actually highlighted the strangeness. I ended up trick-or-treating for M&Ms at my own house. We carved a giant papaya. It was a lot of fun, but the absurdity of the papaya especially was a stark reminder that we were half the world away.
Watching Barack Obama’s acceptance speech had the same effect. It was broadcast live from Chicago on a cool autumn evening but we watched it at 8am when its already 85 degrees outside. Every once in a while things like this happen to me and it is then that I feel the most isolated. I am already very accustomed to the way things are here. I just take it as it comes and it feels like home. But when I dwell on the past or future in the U.S.A., I am confronted by a dichotomy that makes me feel both homesick and excited to be having this experience.
November 9, 2008
Jerijery
Jerijery is the music festival that happens in my town that I promised to write about in a previous blog. It is just before the week long All-Saints vacation and basically the town is overrun by Malagasy tourists who come to buy, sell, and see the show. There was easily 5 times the normal amount of people in town. The sides of the street were covered with temporary stands and people selling things of all kinds on blankets.
Every day between Thursday and Sunday, there were two performing artistes on stage. They began around 3:30 and went until about 7:30. There was a 2,000 ariary cover to the outdoor theatre.
Five other volunteers from my stage came from their sites to see mine and the show. Two came from from Tamatave and Kathryne came in from Fiadanana, making 10 in total (only 2 guys, a classic PC ratio). We went to two shows, went hiking, ate out, spoke English and had a really good time.
Malagasy shows are different than the shows I saw in the U.S.A. They are full of choreographed dancing and costume changes. Depending on the artist, the dancing was either really good and impressive, or vulgar and graphic. I actually asked a Malagasy friend of mine if some of the dancing was ok, since there was children present. Apparently it was.
One notable thing about the concert is that people in the crowd generally didn’t dance. When they want to, an average Malagasy can out-shake even the best dancers I knew in the states. I can’t say why, but they really just didn’t do much of it until it got dark (or they got drunk), except in isolated sections of the crowd. Also, it is perfectly normal for two guys to dance together in ways that would be odd for two heterosexual guys at home. The culture in general is homophobic (and Catholic), but dancing is not as sexually oriented is it seemed to be at home.
November 9, 2008
Every day between Thursday and Sunday, there were two performing artistes on stage. They began around 3:30 and went until about 7:30. There was a 2,000 ariary cover to the outdoor theatre.
Five other volunteers from my stage came from their sites to see mine and the show. Two came from from Tamatave and Kathryne came in from Fiadanana, making 10 in total (only 2 guys, a classic PC ratio). We went to two shows, went hiking, ate out, spoke English and had a really good time.
Malagasy shows are different than the shows I saw in the U.S.A. They are full of choreographed dancing and costume changes. Depending on the artist, the dancing was either really good and impressive, or vulgar and graphic. I actually asked a Malagasy friend of mine if some of the dancing was ok, since there was children present. Apparently it was.
One notable thing about the concert is that people in the crowd generally didn’t dance. When they want to, an average Malagasy can out-shake even the best dancers I knew in the states. I can’t say why, but they really just didn’t do much of it until it got dark (or they got drunk), except in isolated sections of the crowd. Also, it is perfectly normal for two guys to dance together in ways that would be odd for two heterosexual guys at home. The culture in general is homophobic (and Catholic), but dancing is not as sexually oriented is it seemed to be at home.
November 9, 2008
All-saints vacation:
The school calendar here (and I assume in France) goes in sets of six weeks with a vacation in between. The first of these vacations is All-Saints for the first week of November. There were already 5 girls from my Education stage in my site for Jerijery and we all decided to go to Megan’s site in Vatomandry for business. PC gives you 2 days a month for vacation, but if you have approved business, you are able to travel without spending them. If PC asks, we were working, even though they already know that we weren’t. It is a strange policy, but we were able to go on vacation without using our days.
We spent most of our time relaxing, by which I mean sitting in various places. We sat a the beach, in the shade, at Megan’s place. We cooked, swapped Malagasy vocab and project ideas and stories from site. Mostly we spoke English and had a good time. We celebrated Barack Obama, traded books and pictures and drank beer.
It is sometimes strange to be surrounded by female company, but that is just the way PC is. More girls than boys.
We spent most of our time relaxing, by which I mean sitting in various places. We sat a the beach, in the shade, at Megan’s place. We cooked, swapped Malagasy vocab and project ideas and stories from site. Mostly we spoke English and had a good time. We celebrated Barack Obama, traded books and pictures and drank beer.
It is sometimes strange to be surrounded by female company, but that is just the way PC is. More girls than boys.
Life is calling...
but I can’t reach the phone from my chair.
So far, everyone I have talked to in country has been amazed by the amount of nothing we all do. I recently was with a RPCV (what you are called after service) and asked him: Do you remember sitting around a lot in the first 3 months? Danny’s reply “you mean the first two years?” really sums it up. Recently on vacation in Vatomandry it became a running joke and spawned some new Peace Corps motto suggestions:
Might as well, got nothing else to do.
How long have we been sitting here?
I was going to do it, but then I didn’t.
Doing nothing never looked so good on your resume.
We all thought we were self motivated people, but now none of us really seem to want to do anything. Perhaps it is just an adjustment to the pace of life here. We have slowed down, but it still seems a little awkward. Maybe because everything we have tried to do so far has just not happened or failed. I could teach 16 hours a week, but the school hasn’t given me a schedule yet. Guess what I do with all of my free time. Nothing productive. I have been playing guitar, and running (not today because of the mysterious and painful bite on my foot), but I have been doing more sitting around than I ever thought I could. Here’s my final submission for new mottos: It is amazing what you can get used to.
So far, everyone I have talked to in country has been amazed by the amount of nothing we all do. I recently was with a RPCV (what you are called after service) and asked him: Do you remember sitting around a lot in the first 3 months? Danny’s reply “you mean the first two years?” really sums it up. Recently on vacation in Vatomandry it became a running joke and spawned some new Peace Corps motto suggestions:
Might as well, got nothing else to do.
How long have we been sitting here?
I was going to do it, but then I didn’t.
Doing nothing never looked so good on your resume.
We all thought we were self motivated people, but now none of us really seem to want to do anything. Perhaps it is just an adjustment to the pace of life here. We have slowed down, but it still seems a little awkward. Maybe because everything we have tried to do so far has just not happened or failed. I could teach 16 hours a week, but the school hasn’t given me a schedule yet. Guess what I do with all of my free time. Nothing productive. I have been playing guitar, and running (not today because of the mysterious and painful bite on my foot), but I have been doing more sitting around than I ever thought I could. Here’s my final submission for new mottos: It is amazing what you can get used to.
Update on unwanted guests:
Recently I had some other volunteers over to my house for Jerijery (see other entry). While they were all here we had a mattress on the floor, and also a scorpion. One of the girls woke up at 5 am and thought her hand was asleep, then thought she cut it, then asked for help opening the door because it hurt so bad and was shaking. Kinsey impressed me by how calm she kept. We gave her some benadryl, called the doctors and I found looked for anything that might have been the culprit. I turned up a small brown scorpion with black markings on it’s back. Kinsey was fine. It was kind of like a bee sting, but worse. No problem.
November 9, 2008
November 9, 2008
Ma grand-mère serait fier:
(My grandmother would be proud)
There is not much foreign tourism to Vavaten, but I have already met six aid workers from France. While I am able to speak French with selected Malagasy, it is not the same French that is spoken in France, so I always try to take the opportunity to spend time with the aid workers. The most recent were two middle aged ladies. I offered to take them on a hike to see some birds in the hills near the town and was able to successfully give them a tour of some of the local flora and fauna in French. I even did a little Malagasy-French translating without my head exploding.
I ran into them recently and they were on their way out. There is not much crime here in Vavaten, but someone broke into their room and stole a lot of money and their passports. They had to cut their trip short. Que honte.
There is not much foreign tourism to Vavaten, but I have already met six aid workers from France. While I am able to speak French with selected Malagasy, it is not the same French that is spoken in France, so I always try to take the opportunity to spend time with the aid workers. The most recent were two middle aged ladies. I offered to take them on a hike to see some birds in the hills near the town and was able to successfully give them a tour of some of the local flora and fauna in French. I even did a little Malagasy-French translating without my head exploding.
I ran into them recently and they were on their way out. There is not much crime here in Vavaten, but someone broke into their room and stole a lot of money and their passports. They had to cut their trip short. Que honte.
Packed lunch:
I think I mentioned that many of my students come in from the countryside for school. Many of them walk more than 20 km and stay in town all week. When they go home on the weekends, they help their parents with farming, then bring some of the harvest with them back to town. Just like we pack lunches to school, they bring rice for the week. You may recall that Malagasy people eat a lot of rice. And you probably know that people in their teens eat more than others. Now try to imagine the students walking through the countryside with huge bags of rice on bamboo poles over their shoulders, or on their heads to get to school every week.
October 2, 2008
October 2, 2008
The water has not yet arrived:
The cyclone season is just beginning here and I am beginning to find out what it will be like. The dry season lasted for about one month, now we will have alternating multiple-day rainstorms and periods of sun and heat. The next 5 months will be like this, punctuated by the occasional cyclone. In the last two weeks we have had two three-day storms. It rains hard and makes going anywhere difficult since most of the roads and paths get muddy and slippery.
People here like to talk about the obvious. If it is hot, they will tell you, ‘its hot today’, and the same for rain. When I mention the rain, however, they are always quick to point out ‘mbola tsy tonga ny rano’, or ‘the water has not yet arrived’. I am not yet sure whether this is a reference to the rainy season or the impending cyclones, but I am sure I am in for a unique experience. In Seattle, the rain is plentiful, but always just a dribble compared to the tropical storms here, and the fact that the people of Vavatenina don’t even call it rain is ominous. When the water arrives, I will be in for a whole new atmospheric experience.
October 2, 2008
People here like to talk about the obvious. If it is hot, they will tell you, ‘its hot today’, and the same for rain. When I mention the rain, however, they are always quick to point out ‘mbola tsy tonga ny rano’, or ‘the water has not yet arrived’. I am not yet sure whether this is a reference to the rainy season or the impending cyclones, but I am sure I am in for a unique experience. In Seattle, the rain is plentiful, but always just a dribble compared to the tropical storms here, and the fact that the people of Vavatenina don’t even call it rain is ominous. When the water arrives, I will be in for a whole new atmospheric experience.
October 2, 2008
AIDS awareness bike race:
This is a program that is on it’s third year in Madagascar. Each previous year it has been a huge success, but it was also largely funded by individual volunteers in Tamatave. The volunteer this year rightly expressed the opinion that ‘if it isn’t run and supported by the people here, it is time for it to die’. PC is about sustainable development after all.
That said, Dalene worked tirelessly to make it happen and it went really well this year, entirely funded outside of PC. Dalene worked with the planning committee and many of us other volunteers provided help on the days of the race.
Before the race there were teams of PCVs and Malagasy doing ‘sensitizations’, having demos and making speeches about AIDS prevention and general awareness. There were random AIDS tests and free condoms for everyone. All in all, it was a huge success.
This was a foot race, a bike race and a pousse-pousse (rickshaw) race. They were supposed to be 3km, 25km, and 5km respectively. They were in fact much longer: 8km, 67km and 12km. Those of you with any running experience will know how much this will affect the competitors. If you set a 3km pace, then try to keep it up for almost 3 times that distance, you will most likely collapse. That was the case for many. I was near the finish line directing the racers to get their prizes and most of them couldn’t walk on their own. Red Cross was there with stretchers and water and many of the local people helping out ended up just carrying their compatriots to the prize booth.
I would like to restate that the operation was a huge success. This country has an incredibly low AIDS rate, especially considering it’s proximity to South Africa, and the random tests can confirm or deny that. It could be that there is just no good data. The info about prevention may not be received well, or practiced, but at least it is out there and that is all we can do.
It is important to know that there is a large mining company here now with many of it’s workers coming from South Africa. Without getting into the overall effects of this (which would be a huge project) I will just point out that this could be an in-road for AIDS if people are not careful. The rate could jump, and fast. It is heartening to see the Malagasy people taking it upon themselves to work for this cause, not just NGOs and PC.
October 2, 2008
That said, Dalene worked tirelessly to make it happen and it went really well this year, entirely funded outside of PC. Dalene worked with the planning committee and many of us other volunteers provided help on the days of the race.
Before the race there were teams of PCVs and Malagasy doing ‘sensitizations’, having demos and making speeches about AIDS prevention and general awareness. There were random AIDS tests and free condoms for everyone. All in all, it was a huge success.
This was a foot race, a bike race and a pousse-pousse (rickshaw) race. They were supposed to be 3km, 25km, and 5km respectively. They were in fact much longer: 8km, 67km and 12km. Those of you with any running experience will know how much this will affect the competitors. If you set a 3km pace, then try to keep it up for almost 3 times that distance, you will most likely collapse. That was the case for many. I was near the finish line directing the racers to get their prizes and most of them couldn’t walk on their own. Red Cross was there with stretchers and water and many of the local people helping out ended up just carrying their compatriots to the prize booth.
I would like to restate that the operation was a huge success. This country has an incredibly low AIDS rate, especially considering it’s proximity to South Africa, and the random tests can confirm or deny that. It could be that there is just no good data. The info about prevention may not be received well, or practiced, but at least it is out there and that is all we can do.
It is important to know that there is a large mining company here now with many of it’s workers coming from South Africa. Without getting into the overall effects of this (which would be a huge project) I will just point out that this could be an in-road for AIDS if people are not careful. The rate could jump, and fast. It is heartening to see the Malagasy people taking it upon themselves to work for this cause, not just NGOs and PC.
October 2, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
The unintentional decline of my professional standards:
Life here moves at a different pace: much slower. This is a place where schedules mean nothing, time is often told by the sun and while people want to do plenty of things, none of them seem to happen.
There are sometimes over-riding reasons. For example, while school has officially started, many of the students will not show up until after the rice is fully transplanted and will have to miss more class during the harvest. Then again, sometimes there are not.
I have always considered myself a motivated individual, but also am able to go with the flow when there is no sense in fighting it. I had been determined that I would be a model of professionalism, even if it didn’t matter. If I was told a meeting started at 8am, I would be there at 8am, knowing full well that it will not start until 9:30 and that even then half of the people who need to be there won’t come.
The problem is that nobody tells me about the meetings, even though I have asked many of them to do so. The person who is the community representative to work with me and PC has not been to a single one. Just this morning I was late to a meeting I didn’t know about until one of the students I have been tutoring told me “I think I saw all the teachers in the Lycèe Annexe.” Thank you Staneslace.
I have yet to be to a meeting on time. I was 20 minutes late to the first class I was supposed to teach because it was 1.5 km down the road at the other Lycèe. That was ok though, because I was the only teacher to show up in the whole school.
The Ministry of Education publishes a schedule of classes that should be followed country-wide. There are country-wide exams given here based on the Ministry’s curriculum and it is important that everyone gets equal amounts of instruction. According to that schedule, class began on the 22nd of September. So far, I think I am the only one in town to have taught a class.
I may in fact be missing a class right now. The Proviseur of the Lycèe is a hard worker and is very organized. He has been very helpful so far. He actually gave me my schedule at the Lycèe a week ago, which is how I was able to teach a few classes already. I copied it down and brought it to the Directeur CEG so there would be no scheduling conflicts. He apparently didn’t look at it. Two of the three classes he scheduled me for are in conflict with the Lycèe schedule and two are also the wrong class. I would be happy to each the different grade levels, but not at the same time as my Premier class. The result of which is that I still don’t know which classes I am going to teach or when they will be. I do know that the ones I am currently scheduled for will not have a teacher, so I can continue to go to those.
They told me, this week, just sit at home, next week you will begin teaching. That is two weeks missed already and I'll believe it when I see it.
Reflecting on my original goal to be a model of professionalism, I can now only hope that nobody has noticed all of the things I missed. Of course that is not possible. Being ‘the teacher from the U.S.’, everyone knows everything I do. And it is likely that they all know about all of the meetings too. They just don’t show up.
There are sometimes over-riding reasons. For example, while school has officially started, many of the students will not show up until after the rice is fully transplanted and will have to miss more class during the harvest. Then again, sometimes there are not.
I have always considered myself a motivated individual, but also am able to go with the flow when there is no sense in fighting it. I had been determined that I would be a model of professionalism, even if it didn’t matter. If I was told a meeting started at 8am, I would be there at 8am, knowing full well that it will not start until 9:30 and that even then half of the people who need to be there won’t come.
The problem is that nobody tells me about the meetings, even though I have asked many of them to do so. The person who is the community representative to work with me and PC has not been to a single one. Just this morning I was late to a meeting I didn’t know about until one of the students I have been tutoring told me “I think I saw all the teachers in the Lycèe Annexe.” Thank you Staneslace.
I have yet to be to a meeting on time. I was 20 minutes late to the first class I was supposed to teach because it was 1.5 km down the road at the other Lycèe. That was ok though, because I was the only teacher to show up in the whole school.
The Ministry of Education publishes a schedule of classes that should be followed country-wide. There are country-wide exams given here based on the Ministry’s curriculum and it is important that everyone gets equal amounts of instruction. According to that schedule, class began on the 22nd of September. So far, I think I am the only one in town to have taught a class.
I may in fact be missing a class right now. The Proviseur of the Lycèe is a hard worker and is very organized. He has been very helpful so far. He actually gave me my schedule at the Lycèe a week ago, which is how I was able to teach a few classes already. I copied it down and brought it to the Directeur CEG so there would be no scheduling conflicts. He apparently didn’t look at it. Two of the three classes he scheduled me for are in conflict with the Lycèe schedule and two are also the wrong class. I would be happy to each the different grade levels, but not at the same time as my Premier class. The result of which is that I still don’t know which classes I am going to teach or when they will be. I do know that the ones I am currently scheduled for will not have a teacher, so I can continue to go to those.
They told me, this week, just sit at home, next week you will begin teaching. That is two weeks missed already and I'll believe it when I see it.
Reflecting on my original goal to be a model of professionalism, I can now only hope that nobody has noticed all of the things I missed. Of course that is not possible. Being ‘the teacher from the U.S.’, everyone knows everything I do. And it is likely that they all know about all of the meetings too. They just don’t show up.
Unwelcome guests:
Within the span of 2 days I found two scorpions in my room (one in my bed) and one centipede. For those of you unfamiliar with tropical centipedes, let me educate you about them. They bite. It hurts. I will assume that you know the same is true of scorpions.
This rash of poisonous pests led me to check the PCV Mcar Health Handbook looking for answers. What to do if bitten or stung by one of these creatures? “Call the medical office immediately.” Ominous.
These creatures are added to the ecosystem of my room. I have 4 spiders working round the clock to rid the place of mosquitoes. I have a team of ants that clean up the crumbs from my table. I have been trying to lure in lizards, but so far only have one vagrant inside and one that lives near my window on the outside. There are some free-loading cockroaches that do nothing to earn their keep, so I sweep them out when I find them. Most mornings there is one.
I wonder what they do when I sweep them out. I don’t like to kill things, so I leave them to go wherever they want. Probably into my landlord’s house, or back into mine. But what to do with the poisonous critters? There are kids living near me. I cannot just let them go wherever they please. The centipede went straight under one of the kid’s hats that was lying on the ground. I showed it to them and they killed it. I killed one of the scorpions myself, but I didn’t feel right about it.
I seem to be on a streak of pests and I guess I’ll just have to decide what to do about it tomorrow morning when I find out what other surprises this place has in store for me.
A few days later.....I have not had any visitors since those two crowded days. I was briefly threatened by a snake today on top of a mountain near my village, but this time it was me invading her territory. I am getting more and more lizards, finally. Perhaps they will eat some of the mosquitoes and drive out the cockroaches. One can only hope to attract attention from the right creatures, not to keep them out entirely.
This rash of poisonous pests led me to check the PCV Mcar Health Handbook looking for answers. What to do if bitten or stung by one of these creatures? “Call the medical office immediately.” Ominous.
These creatures are added to the ecosystem of my room. I have 4 spiders working round the clock to rid the place of mosquitoes. I have a team of ants that clean up the crumbs from my table. I have been trying to lure in lizards, but so far only have one vagrant inside and one that lives near my window on the outside. There are some free-loading cockroaches that do nothing to earn their keep, so I sweep them out when I find them. Most mornings there is one.
I wonder what they do when I sweep them out. I don’t like to kill things, so I leave them to go wherever they want. Probably into my landlord’s house, or back into mine. But what to do with the poisonous critters? There are kids living near me. I cannot just let them go wherever they please. The centipede went straight under one of the kid’s hats that was lying on the ground. I showed it to them and they killed it. I killed one of the scorpions myself, but I didn’t feel right about it.
I seem to be on a streak of pests and I guess I’ll just have to decide what to do about it tomorrow morning when I find out what other surprises this place has in store for me.
A few days later.....I have not had any visitors since those two crowded days. I was briefly threatened by a snake today on top of a mountain near my village, but this time it was me invading her territory. I am getting more and more lizards, finally. Perhaps they will eat some of the mosquitoes and drive out the cockroaches. One can only hope to attract attention from the right creatures, not to keep them out entirely.
Lola concert and Jerijery:
In Vavatenina, there is one of the best concert venues in the country. I have no idea why someone built it here, but since it exists, it has become a stop for every main artist on tour. It is called Jerijery and once a year, in November, there is a huge festival that happens there.
Last week, we got a visit from Lola, currently one of the most popular Malagasy artists. There are only about 15 songs by Malagasy artists on the radio, and 9 of them are by him. He is the top gun for Malagasy music, going head to head with (but still losing to) Celiene Deon and Lucky Dube.
I was impressed with Lola’s show. He had a great presence, got the audience to sing, and played a 3 hour continuos set. He came complete with 3 choreographed dancers and a six piece band. I found it strange that he started at 3pm, but I guess that is standard. The sun went down around 6:30 and the concert ended shortly after 7.
I was unimpressed by the audience. They sang along, but didn’t dance. I expected everyone to dance, I know they can. The other parties I have been to I was always impressed and tried to pick up a few new moves. Nobody danced at Lola until it got dark, which meant 2.5 hours of standing and listening and 30 minutes of dancing. Strange.
I have high hopes for Jerijery as it is a multi-day festival and I expect it to go late into the night.
Last week, we got a visit from Lola, currently one of the most popular Malagasy artists. There are only about 15 songs by Malagasy artists on the radio, and 9 of them are by him. He is the top gun for Malagasy music, going head to head with (but still losing to) Celiene Deon and Lucky Dube.
I was impressed with Lola’s show. He had a great presence, got the audience to sing, and played a 3 hour continuos set. He came complete with 3 choreographed dancers and a six piece band. I found it strange that he started at 3pm, but I guess that is standard. The sun went down around 6:30 and the concert ended shortly after 7.
I was unimpressed by the audience. They sang along, but didn’t dance. I expected everyone to dance, I know they can. The other parties I have been to I was always impressed and tried to pick up a few new moves. Nobody danced at Lola until it got dark, which meant 2.5 hours of standing and listening and 30 minutes of dancing. Strange.
I have high hopes for Jerijery as it is a multi-day festival and I expect it to go late into the night.
Tsaboraha:
A tsaboraha is a ceremony in which the family has a big party, the whole party goes to their ancestor’s tomb and re-wraps the body in a clean shroud. The body is not completely exposed, they only replace the top layer. On the plateau, it is very formal. I did not go to one of these, but we were told about the correct way to carry the body 7 times around the tomb, the speeches and the formal re-wrapping and replacing of the body. The ceremony is usually done 2-3 years after the person dies.
Like all things on the coast, their version is lazy and more relaxed. The party starts at on Friday evening and goes through the night. Some stay, some go, and some only join the next day. On Saturday morning everyone goes to the tomb. They continue, or start celebrating. There are speeches, a cow is sacrificed near the tomb and a clean lamba (shroud) is placed outside the tomb. They do not actually exhume the body on this part of the coast.
I went to one with the health volunteer, Patrick, who is nearly done with his 3rd year here. He had gone to them in the past and I thought it would be a good opportunity to see one with someone who can explain things to me. The one we went to, he tells me, was even lazier than others. The tomb was close to the city, so people were coming and going, there were no fights (which usually occur when people drink for 2 days straight) and it was just less ceremonial. Kind of a let down really, I was expecting more. At least now I am prepared for another one if I ever get the chance. Maybe the next one will be more exciting.
The section of the east coast that I live in is predominantly Catholic and the church condemned ceremonies like the tsaboraha long ago. There are many here, my landlord included, who refuse to go to them. He was shocked that I wanted to go, even though he knows I am not Catholic and asked me what I thought when I came back. I told him it was a little boring, but since we don’t have them in the states it was a fun experience. He was satisfied by my answer and does not consider me a heathen just for going.
Like all things on the coast, their version is lazy and more relaxed. The party starts at on Friday evening and goes through the night. Some stay, some go, and some only join the next day. On Saturday morning everyone goes to the tomb. They continue, or start celebrating. There are speeches, a cow is sacrificed near the tomb and a clean lamba (shroud) is placed outside the tomb. They do not actually exhume the body on this part of the coast.
I went to one with the health volunteer, Patrick, who is nearly done with his 3rd year here. He had gone to them in the past and I thought it would be a good opportunity to see one with someone who can explain things to me. The one we went to, he tells me, was even lazier than others. The tomb was close to the city, so people were coming and going, there were no fights (which usually occur when people drink for 2 days straight) and it was just less ceremonial. Kind of a let down really, I was expecting more. At least now I am prepared for another one if I ever get the chance. Maybe the next one will be more exciting.
The section of the east coast that I live in is predominantly Catholic and the church condemned ceremonies like the tsaboraha long ago. There are many here, my landlord included, who refuse to go to them. He was shocked that I wanted to go, even though he knows I am not Catholic and asked me what I thought when I came back. I told him it was a little boring, but since we don’t have them in the states it was a fun experience. He was satisfied by my answer and does not consider me a heathen just for going.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Rice and Rocks:
My host mother was a terrible cook. In their house a meal that was ‘bon prepare’ was rice and beans with no rocks, which we rarely had. I’ll give her some credit though, picking out all the rocks and unbroken rice is hard work. I would know, I’ve been doing it myself these days.
When rice is separated from the stalk, it has a husk on it. That is pounded until it breaks, then some of the husks are winnowed from the rice. At this point I buy it in the market. When I get it, I have to finish getting out the broken husks, try to find all the unbroken ones (they look like rice, only browner and pointier) and the rocks. One unfortunate part of the process is that the ones that get missed are the ones that survived the pounding phase. That means natural selection is working against my teeth and only the strongest ones survive to be bitten by me. So far, I have not let a rock or husk into my rice, but I’ve got plenty of time to chip teeth later.
It is amazing all the things I have learned how to do. If I want peanut-butter (and I do) I buy raw peanuts, roast them, peel them and smash them with a mortar and pestle as big as I am. I buy coffee green and it gets the same roasting and pounding treatment. I haven’t quite gotten the hang of coffee, but I think I will soon. Just two days ago (9/4/08) I asked my friend where in town I could get some cinnamon; he took me to his parent’s farm and informed me that these were cinnamon trees. We peeled the bark and it is now drying in my room.
You wouldn’t know until you tried it just how much work it takes to get a good cup of rice.
When rice is separated from the stalk, it has a husk on it. That is pounded until it breaks, then some of the husks are winnowed from the rice. At this point I buy it in the market. When I get it, I have to finish getting out the broken husks, try to find all the unbroken ones (they look like rice, only browner and pointier) and the rocks. One unfortunate part of the process is that the ones that get missed are the ones that survived the pounding phase. That means natural selection is working against my teeth and only the strongest ones survive to be bitten by me. So far, I have not let a rock or husk into my rice, but I’ve got plenty of time to chip teeth later.
It is amazing all the things I have learned how to do. If I want peanut-butter (and I do) I buy raw peanuts, roast them, peel them and smash them with a mortar and pestle as big as I am. I buy coffee green and it gets the same roasting and pounding treatment. I haven’t quite gotten the hang of coffee, but I think I will soon. Just two days ago (9/4/08) I asked my friend where in town I could get some cinnamon; he took me to his parent’s farm and informed me that these were cinnamon trees. We peeled the bark and it is now drying in my room.
You wouldn’t know until you tried it just how much work it takes to get a good cup of rice.
Oops, I didn’t know that was fady:
Madagascar is a mysterious place. The history is long, and punctuated by new people coming and going. Explorers from Indonesia and the mainland, pirates from India and Southeast Asia. It was colonized by the English and the French. The Chinese have come and left their mark.
One of the results of this is a complex system of regionalized ‘fady’ or taboo. People point with their first knuckles to avoid pointing at a tomb. In Betsimisaraka (my home region) it is fady to eat goat. Sometimes sleeping facing a certain direction is fady, or touching a person’s head. Every once in a while, someone tells me I can’t do something, or I should have done something. It is rude to question fady, so the reasons remain a mystery, even to those who follow all of the fady.
If you enter some houses stepping with your left foot instead of your right, you bring bad luck on yourself and the entire household. Oops...sorry.
One of the results of this is a complex system of regionalized ‘fady’ or taboo. People point with their first knuckles to avoid pointing at a tomb. In Betsimisaraka (my home region) it is fady to eat goat. Sometimes sleeping facing a certain direction is fady, or touching a person’s head. Every once in a while, someone tells me I can’t do something, or I should have done something. It is rude to question fady, so the reasons remain a mystery, even to those who follow all of the fady.
If you enter some houses stepping with your left foot instead of your right, you bring bad luck on yourself and the entire household. Oops...sorry.
The Plateau:
Our training site was a small village about 3 hours away from the capital called Alarobia. My home-stay was not particularly pleasant, so I will not dwell on it, but I do want to tell you some generalities about what it is like.
The plateau is a beautiful place. Rolling rocky hills stretch into the distance dotted by small villages, often partitioned into rice paddies or other crops. Water comes from rivers, or shared wells that only run for a few hours in the evening. We arrived in winter, which means it was cloudy with a misty rain most of the time. It got down into the 40’s at night and stayed in the 60’s during the day. When the clouds cleared it got colder at night and hotter during the day. This is the coldest time of the year, in the coldest region in the country, due to the elevation.
Small farming villages dot the hillsides. Mostly they farm rice, but most of the countries vegetables come from here too. There are also wide patches of forest that are plentiful in birds, and lizards and can support some small rodents (like hedgehogs).
On the plateau, people don’t go out at night. It is strange, but when night falls they go into their houses and close the door. It is not that they are afraid of the dark, it doesn’t bother them inside; but there could be rabid dogs, or witches. That’s right, witches. They are called ‘mpamposavy’ and are widely believed in even by educated Malagasy. You never know where they are going to be, but if they see you there will be trouble, so they just stay inside all night. Night is the time when mpamposavy are most powerful.
Since the toilets in the rural areas of Madagascar are out-houses (kabone), you might ask ‘what if you have to go to the bathroom at night?’. Good question, you go in a bucket, called a po. At my families house in Alarobia, the kabone was inside the locked fence that surrounded their yard, 20 feet from the front door, but still we all used po. You never know what a mpamposavy is capable of.
The plateau also holds the nations capital and is considered to be the center of the country. Most things that are supposedly nationwide spread from the capital outwards and still don’t make it to many of the rural areas. It is considered the place for opportunity, where there are jobs and money. The one university is there in the capital. It is also very polluted. When I go to Tana, my nose gets stuffed from the airborne pollutants, mainly from all the cars. This is inconvenient, but also means that I don’t have to smell the garbage that lines the streets.
The plateau is a beautiful place. Rolling rocky hills stretch into the distance dotted by small villages, often partitioned into rice paddies or other crops. Water comes from rivers, or shared wells that only run for a few hours in the evening. We arrived in winter, which means it was cloudy with a misty rain most of the time. It got down into the 40’s at night and stayed in the 60’s during the day. When the clouds cleared it got colder at night and hotter during the day. This is the coldest time of the year, in the coldest region in the country, due to the elevation.
Small farming villages dot the hillsides. Mostly they farm rice, but most of the countries vegetables come from here too. There are also wide patches of forest that are plentiful in birds, and lizards and can support some small rodents (like hedgehogs).
On the plateau, people don’t go out at night. It is strange, but when night falls they go into their houses and close the door. It is not that they are afraid of the dark, it doesn’t bother them inside; but there could be rabid dogs, or witches. That’s right, witches. They are called ‘mpamposavy’ and are widely believed in even by educated Malagasy. You never know where they are going to be, but if they see you there will be trouble, so they just stay inside all night. Night is the time when mpamposavy are most powerful.
Since the toilets in the rural areas of Madagascar are out-houses (kabone), you might ask ‘what if you have to go to the bathroom at night?’. Good question, you go in a bucket, called a po. At my families house in Alarobia, the kabone was inside the locked fence that surrounded their yard, 20 feet from the front door, but still we all used po. You never know what a mpamposavy is capable of.
The plateau also holds the nations capital and is considered to be the center of the country. Most things that are supposedly nationwide spread from the capital outwards and still don’t make it to many of the rural areas. It is considered the place for opportunity, where there are jobs and money. The one university is there in the capital. It is also very polluted. When I go to Tana, my nose gets stuffed from the airborne pollutants, mainly from all the cars. This is inconvenient, but also means that I don’t have to smell the garbage that lines the streets.
Hodgepodge of language:
Another result of the multiple colonizations is the regional dialects. Someone from the north (Sakalava) won’t be able to understand someone from the east (Betsimisaraka) The west is also distinct, and nobody understands anybody from the south. Even within the Betsimisaraka region (the name ironically translates to ‘the inseparable people’), there are distinct dialects in the north and south.
There is also Malagasy Official (which means Standard Malagasy in French) which is used on the radio and sometimes taught in school. Many people understand MO, but are unable to speak it. It is roughly the same as the Merina dialect, from the plateau region that was the French colonial capital, the historically most successful region at conquering the others and also the richest.
French is also taught in school, and English to a lesser extent. The English is new, so some kids and people my age speak it, but not many adults. This gets complicated. People assume I am French, so they speak to me in French. When we speak Malagasy, they use MO because they want to sound educated and because they assume it is what I know, even if they can’t speak it that well. During training, my host family refused to make any effort to understand the dialect I was learning, so I spoke MO at home and learned Betsimisaraka in the classroom. Peace Corps asked me to study French before I came.
This gets complicated, so I usually just follow the lead of the person I am trying to talk to in deciding what language or dialect to use. Here is an example of me trying to buy a can of sardines in an epicerie. There were 4 other men present, they get numbers: (side note, loka is side dish in MO, fish in BM)
1: bonjour, entre vous!
me: bonjour, avez vous le poisson?
1: poisson?
me: oui, le poisson.
1: non.
2: (points at the coke) misy coca.
me: tsy ti hanana coca. Misy loka?
2: loka? Ia, misy loka betsaka. Ino atao? (we have lots of loka, what do you want)
me: loka.
3: Misy tsara maso, pate, carroty...(there is beans, pasta, carrots...)
me: loka, trondro, poisson, fish (same meaning, different languages).
1234: blank stares....
me: (spotting it on the wall) Voici! Misy trondro!
3: aaahhhh, loka.
2: Sardines!
4: vouz parlez malagasy!
1: Mahay miteny Malagasy! trondro, loka! Ha ha ha! (you are good at Malagasy!)
You will notice that if I hadn’t spotted it, I would never have been able to buy it. This happens often. Many Malagasy people don’t realize that they have to speak slower to a person learning a language, and would not even consider trying a different word for the same meaning, even though there are usually many.
The one thing working in my favor is that Malagasy people love to point out the obvious. That one fact makes it a great place to learn a language. If I have a bag and am walking to the market, they will say “you are going to the market”. My counterpart walked up to me the other day and said “you have blonde hair”. This is completely normal, for them it is the best way to start a conversation.
Another peculiarity about being a foreigner who speaks Malagasy is that nobody expects it. More often than not, when I speak to someone, or just say hi in passing, they are to surprised to reply. I speak, they stare open-mouthed, I leave. If I go for ‘bon jour’, they can always manage a reply. After two or three times, people usually get over it and are able to reply, but the looks on their faces the first time are must be the most surprised I have ever seen.
Before I leave the subject of language I will point out three more particularities: First, subjects are often left out of sentences. They are supposed to go at the end, but usually don’t make the cut. Verbs are conjugated for past, present or future and offer no clues. I lived with a family in Alarobia for 2 months and was never able to figure out whether the dad was saying ‘you eat a lot’, ‘we eat a lot’, or ‘you should eat more’. Secondly: there is no verb ‘to be’ in the language. It simply does not exist, it is implied. This also complicates things. Sentences always sound naked, and I often have to rearrange the sentence in English to cut it out before I try to form the sentence in BM.
Lastly, there is no plural. There is one dog, two dog or many dog. So far this has caused me no problems, but I can tell already that it will be a challenge for my students to get in their heads.
There is also Malagasy Official (which means Standard Malagasy in French) which is used on the radio and sometimes taught in school. Many people understand MO, but are unable to speak it. It is roughly the same as the Merina dialect, from the plateau region that was the French colonial capital, the historically most successful region at conquering the others and also the richest.
French is also taught in school, and English to a lesser extent. The English is new, so some kids and people my age speak it, but not many adults. This gets complicated. People assume I am French, so they speak to me in French. When we speak Malagasy, they use MO because they want to sound educated and because they assume it is what I know, even if they can’t speak it that well. During training, my host family refused to make any effort to understand the dialect I was learning, so I spoke MO at home and learned Betsimisaraka in the classroom. Peace Corps asked me to study French before I came.
This gets complicated, so I usually just follow the lead of the person I am trying to talk to in deciding what language or dialect to use. Here is an example of me trying to buy a can of sardines in an epicerie. There were 4 other men present, they get numbers: (side note, loka is side dish in MO, fish in BM)
1: bonjour, entre vous!
me: bonjour, avez vous le poisson?
1: poisson?
me: oui, le poisson.
1: non.
2: (points at the coke) misy coca.
me: tsy ti hanana coca. Misy loka?
2: loka? Ia, misy loka betsaka. Ino atao? (we have lots of loka, what do you want)
me: loka.
3: Misy tsara maso, pate, carroty...(there is beans, pasta, carrots...)
me: loka, trondro, poisson, fish (same meaning, different languages).
1234: blank stares....
me: (spotting it on the wall) Voici! Misy trondro!
3: aaahhhh, loka.
2: Sardines!
4: vouz parlez malagasy!
1: Mahay miteny Malagasy! trondro, loka! Ha ha ha! (you are good at Malagasy!)
You will notice that if I hadn’t spotted it, I would never have been able to buy it. This happens often. Many Malagasy people don’t realize that they have to speak slower to a person learning a language, and would not even consider trying a different word for the same meaning, even though there are usually many.
The one thing working in my favor is that Malagasy people love to point out the obvious. That one fact makes it a great place to learn a language. If I have a bag and am walking to the market, they will say “you are going to the market”. My counterpart walked up to me the other day and said “you have blonde hair”. This is completely normal, for them it is the best way to start a conversation.
Another peculiarity about being a foreigner who speaks Malagasy is that nobody expects it. More often than not, when I speak to someone, or just say hi in passing, they are to surprised to reply. I speak, they stare open-mouthed, I leave. If I go for ‘bon jour’, they can always manage a reply. After two or three times, people usually get over it and are able to reply, but the looks on their faces the first time are must be the most surprised I have ever seen.
Before I leave the subject of language I will point out three more particularities: First, subjects are often left out of sentences. They are supposed to go at the end, but usually don’t make the cut. Verbs are conjugated for past, present or future and offer no clues. I lived with a family in Alarobia for 2 months and was never able to figure out whether the dad was saying ‘you eat a lot’, ‘we eat a lot’, or ‘you should eat more’. Secondly: there is no verb ‘to be’ in the language. It simply does not exist, it is implied. This also complicates things. Sentences always sound naked, and I often have to rearrange the sentence in English to cut it out before I try to form the sentence in BM.
Lastly, there is no plural. There is one dog, two dog or many dog. So far this has caused me no problems, but I can tell already that it will be a challenge for my students to get in their heads.
How much rice can that kid eat?!?!:
Hold out both of your hands like a bowl, and imagine that you are holding a heaping pile of cooked rice. Now triple it, and picture yourself eating it 3 times a day. I would consider that a conservative estimate of how much rice people here eat. Even Jeremy would be hard pressed to eat as much as an eight year old Malagasy girl.
In Madagascar, there are 3 parts to a meal: rice, a side dish (loka or ro) and ranomapongo. Along with the rice, there will be one or two loka, the first is usually beans, meat or sometimes pounded greens. The second will be a shredded or sliced raw vegetable on the plateau, where such things are widely available. Ranompongo is a fantastic drink made by boiling water in the pot you just cooked rice in. The burnt rice at the bottom makes a tea that tastes like...burnt rice. Maybe you have to try it to appreciate it, but it is fantastic.
Food is largely dependent on region. For unknown reasons, all the vegetables are grown on the Plateau and shipped to the coast, and fruits go the other way. As a result, vegetables are unappealing and expensive here on the coast, but were fantastic on the Plateau. Rice is grown everywhere that there is water, potatoes in the south where there is none.
My new favorite food is called soupe chiniose garnie. This is Chinese soup, written in French, served Malagasy style. Basically it is ramen soup with dumplings, meat, eggs and sometimes vegetables. I can get a huge bowl for 2,000 ariary at lunch and not need to eat dinner.
In Madagascar, there are 3 parts to a meal: rice, a side dish (loka or ro) and ranomapongo. Along with the rice, there will be one or two loka, the first is usually beans, meat or sometimes pounded greens. The second will be a shredded or sliced raw vegetable on the plateau, where such things are widely available. Ranompongo is a fantastic drink made by boiling water in the pot you just cooked rice in. The burnt rice at the bottom makes a tea that tastes like...burnt rice. Maybe you have to try it to appreciate it, but it is fantastic.
Food is largely dependent on region. For unknown reasons, all the vegetables are grown on the Plateau and shipped to the coast, and fruits go the other way. As a result, vegetables are unappealing and expensive here on the coast, but were fantastic on the Plateau. Rice is grown everywhere that there is water, potatoes in the south where there is none.
My new favorite food is called soupe chiniose garnie. This is Chinese soup, written in French, served Malagasy style. Basically it is ramen soup with dumplings, meat, eggs and sometimes vegetables. I can get a huge bowl for 2,000 ariary at lunch and not need to eat dinner.
The Peace Corps experience:
To those of you who are familiar with my brother’s writings I will say: Peace Corps Madagascar is much different than than PC Nicaragua. Peace Corps sets guidelines, but expects PCV’s to be independent and creative. It is the same with different countries: each country that PC is in works under the same goals and guidelines but is expected to be independent and meet the needs and particularities of it’s own culture.
One difference is that Greg left training and arrived in his site to live with a host family until he found a suitable place to live and decided to move out. In Mcar, if the community wants a volunteer, they must provide suitable housing that is pre-approved by PC. Due to PC Mcar’s long history of success, we also enjoy several special privileges, like the Transit Houses located in three of the countries major cities. These used to be standard in PC, but DC has made a rule of shutting them down. They don’t like that we still have them, but we have thus far resisted the pressure to shut down.
I would like to note that the whole country is not as rural and isolated as I will be describing it. There are places where people are well educated (they can even go to French universities if they do well enough on their exams), have running water, couches, even toilets. However, that is not where Peace Corps works. We go into rural areas, where our lives might be a little more difficult, but our work is much more meaningful.
I live in a town of 20,000, I have power, but no running water. My town has one paved road and exists as a gateway for crops to leave the countryside for the larger towns and sometimes export to Europe. As an education volunteer, I live in an area larger than most health and environment volunteers. My job will be to teach English to 6th graders and Juniors, I will have a schedule, goals and reports to write.
One difference is that Greg left training and arrived in his site to live with a host family until he found a suitable place to live and decided to move out. In Mcar, if the community wants a volunteer, they must provide suitable housing that is pre-approved by PC. Due to PC Mcar’s long history of success, we also enjoy several special privileges, like the Transit Houses located in three of the countries major cities. These used to be standard in PC, but DC has made a rule of shutting them down. They don’t like that we still have them, but we have thus far resisted the pressure to shut down.
I would like to note that the whole country is not as rural and isolated as I will be describing it. There are places where people are well educated (they can even go to French universities if they do well enough on their exams), have running water, couches, even toilets. However, that is not where Peace Corps works. We go into rural areas, where our lives might be a little more difficult, but our work is much more meaningful.
I live in a town of 20,000, I have power, but no running water. My town has one paved road and exists as a gateway for crops to leave the countryside for the larger towns and sometimes export to Europe. As an education volunteer, I live in an area larger than most health and environment volunteers. My job will be to teach English to 6th graders and Juniors, I will have a schedule, goals and reports to write.
Introduction
Introduction:
For the next two years I will be living in a rural Madagascar town called Vavatenina. I will be teaching English and working on sustainable development projects. I know from comments before I left and from my brother’s experience in PC Nicaragua that many of you will be interested in my life here. I will try to provide you with some stories and facts about what it is like, but you must realize that many aspects of my life are completely different than yours and will evade good description. Also, much of it seems normal to me already and may be over looked.
Once a month I will have internet access and will be able to update this blog. I will do my best to meet your demand for information, but have already realized that two years of this will only showcase a portion of what my life here is like. If you have questions, feel free to email me, but expect to wait as long as 2 months for the answer. If you want to write a real letter or send something, my address is:
PCV Brian Fraser
Lycee de Vavatenina
518 Vavatenina
Madagascar
If you want to call, I think skype charges 39 cents a minute to call my cell. The # is:
011 261 33 174 8521
My Dad helped me get this right, just dial those #s. Note that I am in GMT +3 time, try not to call in the middle of the night.
For the next two years I will be living in a rural Madagascar town called Vavatenina. I will be teaching English and working on sustainable development projects. I know from comments before I left and from my brother’s experience in PC Nicaragua that many of you will be interested in my life here. I will try to provide you with some stories and facts about what it is like, but you must realize that many aspects of my life are completely different than yours and will evade good description. Also, much of it seems normal to me already and may be over looked.
Once a month I will have internet access and will be able to update this blog. I will do my best to meet your demand for information, but have already realized that two years of this will only showcase a portion of what my life here is like. If you have questions, feel free to email me, but expect to wait as long as 2 months for the answer. If you want to write a real letter or send something, my address is:
PCV Brian Fraser
Lycee de Vavatenina
518 Vavatenina
Madagascar
If you want to call, I think skype charges 39 cents a minute to call my cell. The # is:
011 261 33 174 8521
My Dad helped me get this right, just dial those #s. Note that I am in GMT +3 time, try not to call in the middle of the night.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Am I really moving to Africa?
I am setting up this blog from home in Lynnwood because I don't know if I will be able to do it in my new home half way around the world. Really, despite all the research I have done, I feel like I still know nothing about it.
I leave in two days for Philly and in five for Madagascar. The reality has not sunk in yet. I am packed and ready to go, and I have a mental image of traveling. There is a long plane flight with my new friends and fellow trainees. We are all exhausted from the rigors of the flight and the 12 hour time difference. We get off the plane, get our bags, then.....I have no idea. That is where my imaginary future stops. Who knows what is there or what it is like? Not me. Not yet. I will however find out for all of us and do my best to give you all some idea. For now, wish me luck.
Veloma!
Brian
I leave in two days for Philly and in five for Madagascar. The reality has not sunk in yet. I am packed and ready to go, and I have a mental image of traveling. There is a long plane flight with my new friends and fellow trainees. We are all exhausted from the rigors of the flight and the 12 hour time difference. We get off the plane, get our bags, then.....I have no idea. That is where my imaginary future stops. Who knows what is there or what it is like? Not me. Not yet. I will however find out for all of us and do my best to give you all some idea. For now, wish me luck.
Veloma!
Brian
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