Written August 4, 2008; posted by MOM)
Well, as I predicted, my trip to the “the Great Above” was quite the experience. It was a long journey, about 5 hours maybe, but part of it was on a river. I was taken down the river in a “Lakana”, a slender, long dugout canoe that is poled down the river. It was a relaxing trip on one of the few sunny and dry days, and I spent part of the trip teaching the boatman some English. People often ask for strange words in English; for instance, I was teaching a group of kids body parts they would point to (“orana”=nose, “maso”=eyes) when one of them asked me to translate “faneva”, a word I had never heard. We had to walk halfway across town to a “faneva” so they could point it out. It ended up being a flag. Sure, nose, eyes, flag...makes sense! Well the boatman and I were going over things around us, like “rano”=water, “masoandro”=sun, when he asked me about a word that ended up meaning “to be arrested/to be in jail”. Natural progression!
While in the new village, I sat in on a fety (party) celebrating the anniversary of the town becoming an official fokontany. At least, I think that is what they were celebrating. When the large town hall style meeting, in which townspeople asked the community leaders questions, became a heated debate, they decided to end things on a funny note by having me address the crowd. So I spoke briefly to the few hundred people, cracking some cheesy jokes, and changing the attitudes of the children from pure terror to intense curiosity. I may have mentioned this before, but somewhere the rumor started, and has passed along the generations, that “Vazaha” (white foreigners) eat children, or at least misbehaving children. So, many kids run away screaming when they see me. To make matters worse, the older children find it amusing to carry their screaming younger siblings up to me to terrorize them. After a series of hand pounds (Tona kely), high fives and some jokes in Malagasy, most children warm to me. Although they still run off when I casually mention I am hungry...
At night, the town had a “Bal” or dance/party. It is common for men to dance together or at least in male-only groups. So a number of the town elders wanted to dance with me, which was a bit strange. After dancing, they would try to set me up with a girl as a “sipa” (girlfriend). They also would try and give me “Toaka Gasy”, a homemade rum that is incredibly harsh to drink. I expect a cartoon-like burst of flames to emit from my mouth after a sip. Eventually, we headed home, where I found out that as well as being a breakfast, lunch and dinner, Vary (rice) is also a late-night snack! Late-night parties at Notre Dame used to consist of frozen pizzas and Tostitos, in DC it was 7-11 snacks and jumbo slices, and in Madagascar it is cold leftover rice!
Speaking of rice, since I was a guest, everyone wanted me to eat with them. At every meal, I made the rounds and would eat rice. Each time, I did not expect to be soon at another house eating rice. So I would eat my share, until I was full, and leave...only to be invited in somewhere new and encouraged to eat until bursting again. I had 2 or 3 of each meal. It was not only filling, but downright exhausting!
All in all, it was a fun trip, even if I managed to get soaked on the trip home in the river. I taught some people the Gospel of Compost according to Chris, and met plenty of interesting new people (like the man I met walking through town who is, according to him and everyone I asked, 105 years young!) Now I am preparing for a Peace Corps training, which means it is time to shave my rather ridiculous 2 month old beard into an even more ridiculous moustache. I know this is the kind of information you all need to know. It will also be the first time my training group gets back together, so I am sure there will be plenty of crazy stories to hear. But I think the moustaches will be the real treat.
Tying up a few loose ends, I mentioned previously eating something called “Fary” and said it was a sweet root crop. Well, upon further inspection, I am an idiot: Fary is sugar cane. So, no wonder it is (almost painfully) sweet! It is also what Toaka Gasy is made from, although I have yet to learn this art.
As part of my daily experience, hearing my name shouted repeatedly by children is always a bit weird. For one, my name is pronounced by everyone here as “Krees” or like the English word “crease”. For another, it is repeated endlessly until I respond or wave, which of course only further encourages the kids. And finally it is now always followed by “Bama, Bama, Bama, Who!” It is kind of like having your own theme song or batting music or entrance music. “Crease! Crease! Crease! Bama! Bama! Bama! Who!” It announces my presence long before my actual arrival, and builds the excitement to a fever pitch...or something like that.
I also forgot to mention another odd thing about Malagasy music—the prevalence of Malagasy Pop Country music. A number of Malagasy artists have become popular by making country music in Malagasy, even adopting the look of country stars. So a music video will have the group in cowboy hats, chaps, boots...never mind that there is no real correlation to traditional American country staples like horses. But there are lots of cows. One popular video in particular makes me laugh: Tselatra, a group of Malagasy male singers, are dressed like cowboys, hanging out in a pickup truck and throwing their arms around each other in a brotherly fashion like good ol’ boys. Seriously if you muted the music and dubbed over the current American country song, it would fit perfectly. Wild!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
I Want Action, Tonight!
(Written by Chris 8/1/08; posted by MOM)
Besides piquing the interest of one R. Brooks with a classic hairband reference, this title specifically refers to PACA. What is PACA, you ask? Participatory Analysis for Community Action. That’s what it stands for, Chris, but what does it MEAN? Well, Peace Corps loves acronyms, and this particular one refers to a method of analyzing needs in a community, and eventually taking action to meet these needs. Basically, a Peace Corps volunteer meets with a small group of community members and presents one of a series of “tools” designed to discover the needs of that group. One such tool is to chart an average day’s activities, often splitting in to male and female groups, and comparing the results. When the needs have been identified, then a solution can be agreed upon and carried out together (for example, if a large portion of a woman’s day is spent fetching water from a distant source, maybe the community will rally around building new and closer wells). This way, the community members have a say in both the analysis and the action. The hope is to avoid situations where a project is completed but is never utilized because it was not a high priority of the community. (What good are more outhouses if no one uses them?)
With that lengthy explanation behind us, let me tell you a bit about my first attempt at a PACA activity. First, I created signs for a meeting, got them stamped and approved, and put them up around town. Interesting sidebar: while I was using Duct Tape to put up my signs, apparently the Malagasy use bananas (“akondro”) to create a paste for such posters. Everyone who saw the posters said two things: they were amazed that I could write in Malagasy; and they would come to the meeting. I began to worry too many people would show up, but it ended up being a group of about 20, mostly men, mostly from the farmers’ co-op, and thus mostly friends of mine. We talked about what made our town good, listing things like crops, the rainforest, the schools the radio station...Then we created maps of the community. Basically it was information gathering for me, and there was no “action” planned yet. That will come in the future, hopefully; for now, “M bola mianatra aho” (I am still learning).
Speaking of the community run radio station, I was hanging out there a few nights ago and was asked to give an impromptu on air interview. The questions were the same as I always get: are you settled here, do you like the town, do you like Malagasy food (they are convinced eating rice makes foreigners sick to their stomachs), how old are you, and my personal favorite, are you married. This last one is always asked of me, often early in conversations, and if I say no they want to know why, and if I would soon marry a Malagasy woman and take her back to the United States with me. Well, when my male radio interviewer asked me if I was married, I said: “No. Why, would you like to marry me?” This threw him off, and the rest of the studio filled with laughter, as we cut the interview short and cued up the song I had chosen (by my favorite Malagasy band, Ambondrana). I like hanging out at the station and learning about Malagasy music, even if I have to hear questions about their limited American music selection (“You like Avril Lavigne?” “Would you like us to play My Heart Will Go On, again?” “James Blunt is wonderful, yes?”)
To tie up a few loose ends from the home improvement post, it seems finishing touches were needed on the house we worked on. While the basic clay is used for most of the house, a more weather-resistant coating was added later. This was a mixture of many parts, one of which was Tain’Omby, or cow manure. I am resisting the urge to make a joke here. Cow manure is widely used as a fertilizer and construction material here, along with its use as fragrant road dressings that I always manage to step in. While forming the original clay, I led some kids in clay modeling, making animals and such. I noticed an interesting cultural point, as each kid made a cow and a pot for cooking rice. And indeed, these two resources, both of which were imported to Madagascar, are the most highly valued by the Malagasy. Most traditional artwork feature cows and only as the Malagasy have learned to market to tourists have they changed to indigenous treasures like lemurs or baobab trees. And I have yet to meet a Malagasy who does not instantly answer my question of favorite foods with an emphatic “Vary!” (rice).
Tomorrow I embark on another epic journey to teach about compost, this time to a fokontany with the name of, loosely translated, “The Great Above”. Sounds kind of like heaven. I would also like to point out that after I boasted earlier in July about how it was sunny; the rest of the month was rainy and dreary. I knew I would jinx it!
Besides piquing the interest of one R. Brooks with a classic hairband reference, this title specifically refers to PACA. What is PACA, you ask? Participatory Analysis for Community Action. That’s what it stands for, Chris, but what does it MEAN? Well, Peace Corps loves acronyms, and this particular one refers to a method of analyzing needs in a community, and eventually taking action to meet these needs. Basically, a Peace Corps volunteer meets with a small group of community members and presents one of a series of “tools” designed to discover the needs of that group. One such tool is to chart an average day’s activities, often splitting in to male and female groups, and comparing the results. When the needs have been identified, then a solution can be agreed upon and carried out together (for example, if a large portion of a woman’s day is spent fetching water from a distant source, maybe the community will rally around building new and closer wells). This way, the community members have a say in both the analysis and the action. The hope is to avoid situations where a project is completed but is never utilized because it was not a high priority of the community. (What good are more outhouses if no one uses them?)
With that lengthy explanation behind us, let me tell you a bit about my first attempt at a PACA activity. First, I created signs for a meeting, got them stamped and approved, and put them up around town. Interesting sidebar: while I was using Duct Tape to put up my signs, apparently the Malagasy use bananas (“akondro”) to create a paste for such posters. Everyone who saw the posters said two things: they were amazed that I could write in Malagasy; and they would come to the meeting. I began to worry too many people would show up, but it ended up being a group of about 20, mostly men, mostly from the farmers’ co-op, and thus mostly friends of mine. We talked about what made our town good, listing things like crops, the rainforest, the schools the radio station...Then we created maps of the community. Basically it was information gathering for me, and there was no “action” planned yet. That will come in the future, hopefully; for now, “M bola mianatra aho” (I am still learning).
Speaking of the community run radio station, I was hanging out there a few nights ago and was asked to give an impromptu on air interview. The questions were the same as I always get: are you settled here, do you like the town, do you like Malagasy food (they are convinced eating rice makes foreigners sick to their stomachs), how old are you, and my personal favorite, are you married. This last one is always asked of me, often early in conversations, and if I say no they want to know why, and if I would soon marry a Malagasy woman and take her back to the United States with me. Well, when my male radio interviewer asked me if I was married, I said: “No. Why, would you like to marry me?” This threw him off, and the rest of the studio filled with laughter, as we cut the interview short and cued up the song I had chosen (by my favorite Malagasy band, Ambondrana). I like hanging out at the station and learning about Malagasy music, even if I have to hear questions about their limited American music selection (“You like Avril Lavigne?” “Would you like us to play My Heart Will Go On, again?” “James Blunt is wonderful, yes?”)
To tie up a few loose ends from the home improvement post, it seems finishing touches were needed on the house we worked on. While the basic clay is used for most of the house, a more weather-resistant coating was added later. This was a mixture of many parts, one of which was Tain’Omby, or cow manure. I am resisting the urge to make a joke here. Cow manure is widely used as a fertilizer and construction material here, along with its use as fragrant road dressings that I always manage to step in. While forming the original clay, I led some kids in clay modeling, making animals and such. I noticed an interesting cultural point, as each kid made a cow and a pot for cooking rice. And indeed, these two resources, both of which were imported to Madagascar, are the most highly valued by the Malagasy. Most traditional artwork feature cows and only as the Malagasy have learned to market to tourists have they changed to indigenous treasures like lemurs or baobab trees. And I have yet to meet a Malagasy who does not instantly answer my question of favorite foods with an emphatic “Vary!” (rice).
Tomorrow I embark on another epic journey to teach about compost, this time to a fokontany with the name of, loosely translated, “The Great Above”. Sounds kind of like heaven. I would also like to point out that after I boasted earlier in July about how it was sunny; the rest of the month was rainy and dreary. I knew I would jinx it!
Friday, September 12, 2008
I. Love. Football on TV.
(Written today, 9/12/2008)
It’s that time of year, and I’ve already got a longing for some gridiron action. Needless to say, even though I was able to find the Olympics on television here, football (American style) is not shown locally. But a bunch of volunteers are planning to get together for a late Thanksgiving holiday and feast, and really what is Thanksgiving without football? While I hope we can get a game going ourselves, I also thought I’d ask those of you who are technologically savvy a favor. Any chance someone out there, with a dvr recorder (or whatever the current technology is these days) would like to record a football game for us? We should have access to a computer for viewing a dvd. Of course I am partial to ND games (really Chris? I had no idea…) but our potential host is a diehard niners fan, if they are involved in any big games. Really any game that looks like it would be a good one, maybe primetime nfl?, in the early season would be awesome (as it would probably take a while to get here, maybe a month or so?). Just figured I’d make the request, but don’t worry about it if it is too much of a hassle!
As you may have noticed, I had access to a computer and was able to type up the below two entries rather than mail them home. They were pretty brief anyways. What can I say, not too many funny things have been happening to me lately! Or perhaps I’ve just gotten used to all the craziness and consider it normal now. Like having dinner with a Malagasy family and having an extended (and graphic) discussion of circumcision. Or arriving at a village a few hours from my own, at an appointed time, to meet a man I should be staying with for the night, and he himself doesn’t show up until the following day. These things are pretty normal. But still, I will try to get more good stories for you, or at least relate ways that I make a fool of myself (the best stories usually).
Also, check out our group blog for a quick tale from me about a certain “dumb” actor and his presence in Madagascar. I thought it was a pretty random tale.
Finally, this being Michigan Weekend...
GO IRISH, BEAT WOLVERINES!!!
It’s that time of year, and I’ve already got a longing for some gridiron action. Needless to say, even though I was able to find the Olympics on television here, football (American style) is not shown locally. But a bunch of volunteers are planning to get together for a late Thanksgiving holiday and feast, and really what is Thanksgiving without football? While I hope we can get a game going ourselves, I also thought I’d ask those of you who are technologically savvy a favor. Any chance someone out there, with a dvr recorder (or whatever the current technology is these days) would like to record a football game for us? We should have access to a computer for viewing a dvd. Of course I am partial to ND games (really Chris? I had no idea…) but our potential host is a diehard niners fan, if they are involved in any big games. Really any game that looks like it would be a good one, maybe primetime nfl?, in the early season would be awesome (as it would probably take a while to get here, maybe a month or so?). Just figured I’d make the request, but don’t worry about it if it is too much of a hassle!
As you may have noticed, I had access to a computer and was able to type up the below two entries rather than mail them home. They were pretty brief anyways. What can I say, not too many funny things have been happening to me lately! Or perhaps I’ve just gotten used to all the craziness and consider it normal now. Like having dinner with a Malagasy family and having an extended (and graphic) discussion of circumcision. Or arriving at a village a few hours from my own, at an appointed time, to meet a man I should be staying with for the night, and he himself doesn’t show up until the following day. These things are pretty normal. But still, I will try to get more good stories for you, or at least relate ways that I make a fool of myself (the best stories usually).
Also, check out our group blog for a quick tale from me about a certain “dumb” actor and his presence in Madagascar. I thought it was a pretty random tale.
Finally, this being Michigan Weekend...
GO IRISH, BEAT WOLVERINES!!!
Like Ma Bell, I Got the Ill Communication
(Written 8/31/2008)
Yes, I am out in a small town in Madagascar, living alone, speaking a foreign language, fetching water from a pump and using a pit latrine. But we recently had a modern technology arrive here: cell phone service! This is the modern Peace Corps experience, a merging of worlds. Now I see people washing their clothes by hand in the river, and stopping to talk on their cell phones. It is all quite surreal!
What does this mean for you reading at home? Well, you can call or text me now if you like. I usually check my phone in the evenings (still no electricity to keep it charged for full-time use), or late morning for most of you reading in the States. Calls are expensive for me to make, but free to receive, and texts are still cheap for me to send. Not sure the best way to call (my Dad uses Skype), and since my phone is not always on you won’t necessarily reach me, but texting is just as easy as in the States (although I do not know the cost for you folks). I’d be happy to hear from you, and my number is 261330607796 (261 is the country code… I’m not sure what exactly you need to dial to get me from the States, sorry!)
The other benefit to cell service is, when I hear a phone ring, I get to yell: “Phone is ringin, oh mygod!” I cannot tell if this confuses people more or less than when I do it in the U.S.
Last week I took a 25 km bike ride to visit a tree nursery. Along the way, my companion stopped to point out two large boulders across a large ravine from us. He told me that it was custom to try and throw a rock across the ravine and hit both boulders and then the large undergrowth below (in one shot), or as he described it the “breasts and stomach of a pregnant woman.” If you could hit all three with the single rock, you would receive good luck (specifically, health and wealth). We did not try, partially because he said it was impossible, and partially because it took me untile we were a ways down the road to fully grasp his explanation. Silly language barrier. Anyway, 15 minutes later he found a 5000 Ariary note on the road (a rather significant amount). He decided he was rewarded for sharing the tradition with me, even if he did not attempt the throw. Considering we barely saw any other people the whole journey, it was quite the coincidence!
Also on this journey, I saw my companion get a full massage next to the dinner table from an elderly masseuse. Nothing wrong with that, but it was unnannounce and a bit of a surprise. One minute he is eating and conversing with me, the next he is shirtless on the bed receiving his massage. Mad’car: Expect the Unexpected!
One other thing I found interesting on this trip: on our way back from the reforestation tree nursery, a 2 hour hike into the forest, we stopped and had some banana sandwiches. Bananas on bread. I thought I was the only one to master this simple delicacy (and that I was weird for enjoying it). I was encouraged to find fellow banana-sandwich fans! Of course, this does not cancel out my weirdness (for instance, I often breakfasst with bananas and sugar on rice).
Yesterday there was a dedication ceremony at my neighbor private school, Mitsinjo (“to take care of”). We had all sorts of Minisiters and education bigwigs (the “Lehibes”) to see the school and officially cut the ribbon. I will probably teach some environmental lessons at this school when lessons start in late September. The ceremony and subsequent party was nice (when I asked what we would do at the party, I received the response of “Eat rice… what else would we do?”), but I enjoyed taking pictures of the assembled kids, all of whom would fight over each other to see their picture. The digital camera and cell phone: two modern technologies making their presence felt in rural lands.
Fun with Malagasy words – I enjoy seeing how Malagasy words are formed. For instance:
Rano = Water
Nono = Breast
Ronono = Milk (or “Water of the Breast”)
Sira = Salt
Mamy = Sweet
Siramamy = Sugar (or “Sweet Salt”)
Aza = Don’t (the command)
Fady = Taboo/forbidden
Azafady = Please/sorry/excuse me (or “Don’t let it be taboo/forbidden!”)
Yes, I am out in a small town in Madagascar, living alone, speaking a foreign language, fetching water from a pump and using a pit latrine. But we recently had a modern technology arrive here: cell phone service! This is the modern Peace Corps experience, a merging of worlds. Now I see people washing their clothes by hand in the river, and stopping to talk on their cell phones. It is all quite surreal!
What does this mean for you reading at home? Well, you can call or text me now if you like. I usually check my phone in the evenings (still no electricity to keep it charged for full-time use), or late morning for most of you reading in the States. Calls are expensive for me to make, but free to receive, and texts are still cheap for me to send. Not sure the best way to call (my Dad uses Skype), and since my phone is not always on you won’t necessarily reach me, but texting is just as easy as in the States (although I do not know the cost for you folks). I’d be happy to hear from you, and my number is 261330607796 (261 is the country code… I’m not sure what exactly you need to dial to get me from the States, sorry!)
The other benefit to cell service is, when I hear a phone ring, I get to yell: “Phone is ringin, oh mygod!” I cannot tell if this confuses people more or less than when I do it in the U.S.
Last week I took a 25 km bike ride to visit a tree nursery. Along the way, my companion stopped to point out two large boulders across a large ravine from us. He told me that it was custom to try and throw a rock across the ravine and hit both boulders and then the large undergrowth below (in one shot), or as he described it the “breasts and stomach of a pregnant woman.” If you could hit all three with the single rock, you would receive good luck (specifically, health and wealth). We did not try, partially because he said it was impossible, and partially because it took me untile we were a ways down the road to fully grasp his explanation. Silly language barrier. Anyway, 15 minutes later he found a 5000 Ariary note on the road (a rather significant amount). He decided he was rewarded for sharing the tradition with me, even if he did not attempt the throw. Considering we barely saw any other people the whole journey, it was quite the coincidence!
Also on this journey, I saw my companion get a full massage next to the dinner table from an elderly masseuse. Nothing wrong with that, but it was unnannounce and a bit of a surprise. One minute he is eating and conversing with me, the next he is shirtless on the bed receiving his massage. Mad’car: Expect the Unexpected!
One other thing I found interesting on this trip: on our way back from the reforestation tree nursery, a 2 hour hike into the forest, we stopped and had some banana sandwiches. Bananas on bread. I thought I was the only one to master this simple delicacy (and that I was weird for enjoying it). I was encouraged to find fellow banana-sandwich fans! Of course, this does not cancel out my weirdness (for instance, I often breakfasst with bananas and sugar on rice).
Yesterday there was a dedication ceremony at my neighbor private school, Mitsinjo (“to take care of”). We had all sorts of Minisiters and education bigwigs (the “Lehibes”) to see the school and officially cut the ribbon. I will probably teach some environmental lessons at this school when lessons start in late September. The ceremony and subsequent party was nice (when I asked what we would do at the party, I received the response of “Eat rice… what else would we do?”), but I enjoyed taking pictures of the assembled kids, all of whom would fight over each other to see their picture. The digital camera and cell phone: two modern technologies making their presence felt in rural lands.
Fun with Malagasy words – I enjoy seeing how Malagasy words are formed. For instance:
Rano = Water
Nono = Breast
Ronono = Milk (or “Water of the Breast”)
Sira = Salt
Mamy = Sweet
Siramamy = Sugar (or “Sweet Salt”)
Aza = Don’t (the command)
Fady = Taboo/forbidden
Azafady = Please/sorry/excuse me (or “Don’t let it be taboo/forbidden!”)
Grew a Mustache and a Mullet
(Written 8-23-2008)
Well we had our In-Service Training, and I saw my fellow volunteers from training. I did indeed grow a mustache, although not a mullet (but my hair, when pulled back by a bandana, sort of resembles one). A few other volunteers also partook, and the range of different mustaches was fantastic. Also, ridiculous t-shirts were in abundance. Seeing everyone again was awesome, even if they all have accomplished much more than me already! During this training, we exchanged stories and learned new skills (like how to get funding for projects – now I just need to find a good project!). One session focused on beekeeping, a practice I thought would be fun to implement at site, at least until I was covered in bees and getting some nice stings. We were told to respect the bees and remain calm, but when they swarm you, inside and outside your clothing, that can be a difficult task. But a few stings are nothing compared to the delicious honey we harvested. Perhaps I can help people with beekeeping after all – To the Bee Mobile! (…You mean your Chevy?)
We also visited a cool organization called Tefy Saina. They pioneered SRI (the System of Rice Intensification), a way of increasing rice yields by better planting methods. But what I really liked was their appropriate technology gadgets. Much like at Akany Avoko, Tefy Saina has found ways to adapt everyday materials to suit all sorts of purposes: a stair-master-esque water pump, a water filter using charcoal, a hand operated washing machine… It was all very cool. You can check them out at www.tefysaina.org
Speaking of NGOs here in Madagascar, two of my friends are working at cool-sounding organizations. Reef Doctors, on the west coast, focuses on protecting the maritime reserves and coral reef environment. Azafady, in the south, has all sorts of projects focusing on environmental protection. I think both offer programs for volunteers to come to Madagascar and work for a few months, so if you are looking for a wild vacation, I would certainly welcome the chance to come see you (and my fellow vols), and you can begin to see some of what we are experiencing here!
Now for a few shout-outs, as I received lots of goodies lately. Thanks to Jen, who sent cds to help me stay sane(-ish), and among other goodies, pictures of friends, even before I had requested them! (I was impressed to, Jen). Bob and Doug, thanks for the reading materials! And of course the family too (my mom sent rice, of all things, as if I don’t get enough… but still wonderful!). And to all who have written too, I greatly appreciate it, and I am working hard to get back to all of you! The ladies at the Post Office are getting tired of seeing me all the time to send letters.
One common theme I have noticed in the letters is a variation on the phrase “You sound like you are having the best time!” While I certainly am, I hope I have not painted too rosy of a picture of my experience. For the most part I tell the good (or hopefully funny) stories here, but it has been a very difficult experience overall. Even after 3 months or so living in my community, I am still an outsider. I guess most days have lots of ups and downs, but it is certainly the good memories that last (and that I want to share with all of you). So if you receive a letter from me that is less positive, it is probably just my way of venting after a particularly tough day. This site we will keep positive, and hopefully entertaining!
Okay, one quick tale of transportation fun in Madagascar. On my way to my training, I had a 4 hour ride in the covered bed of a pickup with 30 other people. Yes, I counted. There were others in the cab, and still a few more brave souls on top. Somehow, it was surprisingly comfortable for me, since I could hang my legs out the back rather than have them crammed between seats. But the ride also featured a trait I have often noticed here: The chain-reaction boot. One person, usually a child (and sometimes a child who is in the middle of breast-feeding), will throw-up from the rough ride. Almost instantaneously, others will vomit as well. Usually it is little more than rice (what else!?) and contained by a cloth or bag. It is no big deal, and everyone goes about their business, cleaning up the puke at the next stop. So far I have been immune to the chain-reaction, but I enjoy the spectacle. After all, don’t be afraid!
I returned from training with more technical books, project ideas, a large bag of condoms (for AIDS awareness and education trainings!), plans to help with a SIDA (the French acronym for AIDS) bike race in Tamatave in October, and a Girls Camp in November. Oh, and some parasy. Parasy are little parasites that burrow into your feet and lay eggs, and look sort of like a blister. I had not gotten any at site (well, maybe one, I’m not sure what one pussy mess was), but during training I discovered one under the “knuckle” of my big toe. I had to pick it out, by digging under it with a pin or knife, but it doesn’t hurt. You have to becareful not to pop the eggsack though… which of course I did, and managed to ooze it out everywhere. No pain, but gross. Madagascar – no large dangerous animals, but plenty of random parasites and strange diseases! I’ll keep you posted if I encounter any more.
Well we had our In-Service Training, and I saw my fellow volunteers from training. I did indeed grow a mustache, although not a mullet (but my hair, when pulled back by a bandana, sort of resembles one). A few other volunteers also partook, and the range of different mustaches was fantastic. Also, ridiculous t-shirts were in abundance. Seeing everyone again was awesome, even if they all have accomplished much more than me already! During this training, we exchanged stories and learned new skills (like how to get funding for projects – now I just need to find a good project!). One session focused on beekeeping, a practice I thought would be fun to implement at site, at least until I was covered in bees and getting some nice stings. We were told to respect the bees and remain calm, but when they swarm you, inside and outside your clothing, that can be a difficult task. But a few stings are nothing compared to the delicious honey we harvested. Perhaps I can help people with beekeeping after all – To the Bee Mobile! (…You mean your Chevy?)
We also visited a cool organization called Tefy Saina. They pioneered SRI (the System of Rice Intensification), a way of increasing rice yields by better planting methods. But what I really liked was their appropriate technology gadgets. Much like at Akany Avoko, Tefy Saina has found ways to adapt everyday materials to suit all sorts of purposes: a stair-master-esque water pump, a water filter using charcoal, a hand operated washing machine… It was all very cool. You can check them out at www.tefysaina.org
Speaking of NGOs here in Madagascar, two of my friends are working at cool-sounding organizations. Reef Doctors, on the west coast, focuses on protecting the maritime reserves and coral reef environment. Azafady, in the south, has all sorts of projects focusing on environmental protection. I think both offer programs for volunteers to come to Madagascar and work for a few months, so if you are looking for a wild vacation, I would certainly welcome the chance to come see you (and my fellow vols), and you can begin to see some of what we are experiencing here!
Now for a few shout-outs, as I received lots of goodies lately. Thanks to Jen, who sent cds to help me stay sane(-ish), and among other goodies, pictures of friends, even before I had requested them! (I was impressed to, Jen). Bob and Doug, thanks for the reading materials! And of course the family too (my mom sent rice, of all things, as if I don’t get enough… but still wonderful!). And to all who have written too, I greatly appreciate it, and I am working hard to get back to all of you! The ladies at the Post Office are getting tired of seeing me all the time to send letters.
One common theme I have noticed in the letters is a variation on the phrase “You sound like you are having the best time!” While I certainly am, I hope I have not painted too rosy of a picture of my experience. For the most part I tell the good (or hopefully funny) stories here, but it has been a very difficult experience overall. Even after 3 months or so living in my community, I am still an outsider. I guess most days have lots of ups and downs, but it is certainly the good memories that last (and that I want to share with all of you). So if you receive a letter from me that is less positive, it is probably just my way of venting after a particularly tough day. This site we will keep positive, and hopefully entertaining!
Okay, one quick tale of transportation fun in Madagascar. On my way to my training, I had a 4 hour ride in the covered bed of a pickup with 30 other people. Yes, I counted. There were others in the cab, and still a few more brave souls on top. Somehow, it was surprisingly comfortable for me, since I could hang my legs out the back rather than have them crammed between seats. But the ride also featured a trait I have often noticed here: The chain-reaction boot. One person, usually a child (and sometimes a child who is in the middle of breast-feeding), will throw-up from the rough ride. Almost instantaneously, others will vomit as well. Usually it is little more than rice (what else!?) and contained by a cloth or bag. It is no big deal, and everyone goes about their business, cleaning up the puke at the next stop. So far I have been immune to the chain-reaction, but I enjoy the spectacle. After all, don’t be afraid!
I returned from training with more technical books, project ideas, a large bag of condoms (for AIDS awareness and education trainings!), plans to help with a SIDA (the French acronym for AIDS) bike race in Tamatave in October, and a Girls Camp in November. Oh, and some parasy. Parasy are little parasites that burrow into your feet and lay eggs, and look sort of like a blister. I had not gotten any at site (well, maybe one, I’m not sure what one pussy mess was), but during training I discovered one under the “knuckle” of my big toe. I had to pick it out, by digging under it with a pin or knife, but it doesn’t hurt. You have to becareful not to pop the eggsack though… which of course I did, and managed to ooze it out everywhere. No pain, but gross. Madagascar – no large dangerous animals, but plenty of random parasites and strange diseases! I’ll keep you posted if I encounter any more.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Because I’m Housing
(written by Chris July 14, 2008; posted by MOM)
Today I spent some time working with my neighbors, who are building an attachment to their house. The kids were working on the final stages and I asked to lend a hand and learn a bit about Malagasy construction. Houses are made out of mud/clay bricks around a wooden structure. During the past week, the family raised the many beams and supports to create a wooden skeleton of a house. They also thatched the roof. Then today it was time to complete the walls. The red clay dirt is mixed with water to form a sticky substance, which is then taken in small sections and applied to the wooden skeleton to make the walls. So we spent today throwing mud bricks on to the wall and smoothing them together. It was a lot of fun (full disclosure: not all of the mud ended up on the wall, some may have been “accidentally” thrown at fellow workers).
This is the time of year for home improvements (cue Tim Taylor grunts). The rice, the main livelihood in Madagascar, has been harvested and sold, so now people have means to build. Throughout town, stores and homes are being expanded, new animal enclosures built, new animals acquired, etc. Of course, nothing lasts forever, and soon the rice planting will begin again (Sept. or Oct. maybe), and there will be no spare money for such projects. But it is fun to see the new improvements all over town while they last.
Yesterday I broke out the football (Americain) with some of the local kids. It went over well, at least as a brief novelty perhaps. I thinks they still prefer the variety that you kick only, but we had some fun playing keep away and throwing spirals (and end-over-enders too). Speaking of kids, as I expected, my Sweet Home Alabama serenade has led to a new chant. Instead of merely yelling my name when I pass through, now groups of children chant “Bama, Bama, Bama, Whooo!” I fully support this, and often stop to conduct them, give fist pumps or sing along. So far, I have not been asked to translate that line into Malagasy, thankfully; the song itself would be tough to explain, let alone the chant. If pressed, I will probably go for “firenana tsara indrindra,” or “the best state”, although that would be pretty huge props to a state I have never visited, but it also translates as “the best country” so I can pretend it is an American pride song. Which, in a way, it sort of is....right?
I have also had my first semi-formal English lesson recently. I worked with a few men from one of the farmers’ groups, mostly on simple greetings and pronunciation. In case you were unaware, English is a difficult language. It is easy for us native speakers to forget this, but trying to explain it and teach it makes me appreciate those who have mastered it as a foreign language a lot. I found learning Malagasy tough, yet it is an easy language in some respects since there is no verb conjugation, few tenses, and lots of adapted French and English words (such as La biera = beer or telefaona = telephone). But I rarely know what voice or tense I am using in English. I tell anyone who ask to learn that I am not a teacher and therefore “Tsy Mahay” (not knowledgeable) at the grammar, but I would gladly teach words and phrases. So with the farmers, we focused on phrases to use with English-speaking tourists, such as “hello”, “how are you?”, “thank you”, and “you are welcome”. It was a slow start, but a start nonetheless!
Finally some of you have asked “what can I send you?” While I love care packages, I know they are ridiculously expensive to send. Letters are awesome, but if you feel the urge to send something substantial, you can include a CD. My Mom mailed me an old Discman, pointing out that people could include a CD with a letter cheaply and easily. Thus you can return to the John Cusack-era mixtape or maybe a copy of some new album that you think I need to hear. If you feel so inclined, I may even play your song on the local radio when I get the chance to select tunes. Tempting, is it not?
Malagasy 101—Home Improvement Edition:
House—trano—“trah-new”
To improve—manatsara—“man-ah-tsar-ah” (tsar like the Russian ruler). Tsara is Malagasy for “good”, so basically it means “to make more good”
Tool Time—fotoana fiasana—“foo-tone-ah fyas-ah-nah”. Fiasana comes from the very miasa, meaning “to work”
More power—hery betsaka kokoa—“airy bet-sa-ka koo-koo-ah”—I totally made this one up, and apparently “hery” is more like power wielded by a king, but close enough!
Argh, argh, argh—argh, argh, argh—really reach down deep for this one, it comes from the back of the throat (some things are just universal, right?)
Today I spent some time working with my neighbors, who are building an attachment to their house. The kids were working on the final stages and I asked to lend a hand and learn a bit about Malagasy construction. Houses are made out of mud/clay bricks around a wooden structure. During the past week, the family raised the many beams and supports to create a wooden skeleton of a house. They also thatched the roof. Then today it was time to complete the walls. The red clay dirt is mixed with water to form a sticky substance, which is then taken in small sections and applied to the wooden skeleton to make the walls. So we spent today throwing mud bricks on to the wall and smoothing them together. It was a lot of fun (full disclosure: not all of the mud ended up on the wall, some may have been “accidentally” thrown at fellow workers).
This is the time of year for home improvements (cue Tim Taylor grunts). The rice, the main livelihood in Madagascar, has been harvested and sold, so now people have means to build. Throughout town, stores and homes are being expanded, new animal enclosures built, new animals acquired, etc. Of course, nothing lasts forever, and soon the rice planting will begin again (Sept. or Oct. maybe), and there will be no spare money for such projects. But it is fun to see the new improvements all over town while they last.
Yesterday I broke out the football (Americain) with some of the local kids. It went over well, at least as a brief novelty perhaps. I thinks they still prefer the variety that you kick only, but we had some fun playing keep away and throwing spirals (and end-over-enders too). Speaking of kids, as I expected, my Sweet Home Alabama serenade has led to a new chant. Instead of merely yelling my name when I pass through, now groups of children chant “Bama, Bama, Bama, Whooo!” I fully support this, and often stop to conduct them, give fist pumps or sing along. So far, I have not been asked to translate that line into Malagasy, thankfully; the song itself would be tough to explain, let alone the chant. If pressed, I will probably go for “firenana tsara indrindra,” or “the best state”, although that would be pretty huge props to a state I have never visited, but it also translates as “the best country” so I can pretend it is an American pride song. Which, in a way, it sort of is....right?
I have also had my first semi-formal English lesson recently. I worked with a few men from one of the farmers’ groups, mostly on simple greetings and pronunciation. In case you were unaware, English is a difficult language. It is easy for us native speakers to forget this, but trying to explain it and teach it makes me appreciate those who have mastered it as a foreign language a lot. I found learning Malagasy tough, yet it is an easy language in some respects since there is no verb conjugation, few tenses, and lots of adapted French and English words (such as La biera = beer or telefaona = telephone). But I rarely know what voice or tense I am using in English. I tell anyone who ask to learn that I am not a teacher and therefore “Tsy Mahay” (not knowledgeable) at the grammar, but I would gladly teach words and phrases. So with the farmers, we focused on phrases to use with English-speaking tourists, such as “hello”, “how are you?”, “thank you”, and “you are welcome”. It was a slow start, but a start nonetheless!
Finally some of you have asked “what can I send you?” While I love care packages, I know they are ridiculously expensive to send. Letters are awesome, but if you feel the urge to send something substantial, you can include a CD. My Mom mailed me an old Discman, pointing out that people could include a CD with a letter cheaply and easily. Thus you can return to the John Cusack-era mixtape or maybe a copy of some new album that you think I need to hear. If you feel so inclined, I may even play your song on the local radio when I get the chance to select tunes. Tempting, is it not?
Malagasy 101—Home Improvement Edition:
House—trano—“trah-new”
To improve—manatsara—“man-ah-tsar-ah” (tsar like the Russian ruler). Tsara is Malagasy for “good”, so basically it means “to make more good”
Tool Time—fotoana fiasana—“foo-tone-ah fyas-ah-nah”. Fiasana comes from the very miasa, meaning “to work”
More power—hery betsaka kokoa—“airy bet-sa-ka koo-koo-ah”—I totally made this one up, and apparently “hery” is more like power wielded by a king, but close enough!
Argh, argh, argh—argh, argh, argh—really reach down deep for this one, it comes from the back of the throat (some things are just universal, right?)
Monday, September 1, 2008
Mr. Blue Sky, Please Tell Us Why, You had to Hide Away for So Long...
(written July 6, 2008; posted by MOM)
After all my complaining about the rain in June, the month of July has been absolutely beautiful. Sunny days, clear nights, although still breezy and cool. Let us hope I am not jinxing the weather by writing this!
I want to give a quick thanks to Ryan Fasano and Kirsten Mizzi, both of whom sent wonderful care packages full of magazines and treats. Among the goodies, they both included Bill Simmons articles and the same Maxim issue. I guess my tastes are well known. And speaking of magazines telling me of events from a month ago, it sounds like the NBA finals were pretty fantastic. I enjoy reading magazines I get as if they were current; at this rate, upon my triumphant US return, I will only be a few months behind the on world events, sports and pop culture (as opposed to 2 years). Of course, even in the states I was perpetually behind-the-times, so maybe nothing will change!
Quick tangent—like a little kid, I have taken to covering my walls with interesting photos and such from magazines. One such picture is an Adidas ad for deodorant featuring a gang of Notre Dame football players making a tackle. Setting aside the difficulty in finding a recent photo of Notre Dame players actually making a tackle, since when does ND sell-out for deodorant? This Adidas ad is a far cry from the classic Champion-ND commercials of my childhood (“It takes a little more to make a Champion!”), the timing of which always seemed to coincide with the Planicka household getting a bit dusty. Oh well, I guess I should be happy to see ND portrayed in any sort of positive light after last year. If the wearing of Adidas deodorant leads to a national champ..., I mean, a winning season, then I guess it’s alright.
Getting back to Madagascar, one of the skills I have been trying to master since my arrival is the ability to observe everything around you while walking. You never know when you might see an interesting critter, in the trees, on the ground, anywhere. I am pretty terrible at this, and usually rely on others to point out chameleons or frogs. But today I got lucky, and as the cliché uttered by so many sports players say, it is better to be lucky than good. For the second time, I saw a Tenrec (which I previously wrote about), and this time I had my camera! The little fella posed for me and allowed some good pictures, but when I tried to put the camera on a timer and get in the shot with him, he quickly scampered away. The same thing happens when I try to get in a picture with the geckos at my house. Apparently the local wildlife is worried I’ll ruin their photo-op!
As for the Malagasy people and photo opportunities, I think we are making progress. At a recent compost lesson, I succeeded in getting most of the people to look at the camera and smile, something that has proven challenging. The nice thing about digital cameras is you can show people the shot immediately, and they can self-police with phrases like: “hey, you’re not smiling” and “can we take another?” Technology is wonderful, and I promise I will be able to share some of these photos with you all eventually!
Random Madagascar fact—the Indri, the type of lemur I hear each morning from my house, has an impressive voice: its song can carry up to 3km. Spread out throughout the rainforest, Indri call to each other every morning and again at nights. The following is from Bradt’s Madagascar Guide : “In Malagasy the Indri is called babakoto which means “father of Koto.” It is fady (fady means taboo basically) to kill an Indri, the legend being that the boy Koto climbed a tree in the forest to collect wild honey, and was severely stung by the bees. Losing his hold, he fell, but was caught by an Indri which carried him on its back to safety.” A timely alarm clock, with a haunting wailing song AND life-saving credentials make the Indri far superior to that other more annoying morning and evening crow-er, the rooster. Fady is itself an interesting concept, and each local area has their own set of fady or taboos. A relatively benign one in my area is you cannot work in the fields with a shovel. More interesting ones are you cannot wear red during a thunderstorm (because you will be struck by lightning) in parts of the country, and a friend of mine on the south coast says its is fady in his town to have stairs, perhaps because someone fell off a particularly high flight of stairs? Of course, we Americans harbor our own share of social taboos that may trike outsiders as odd (throwing salt over you shoulder, calling “shot gun” in a car, not walking under a ladder or other “bad luck” fears, etc)
After all my complaining about the rain in June, the month of July has been absolutely beautiful. Sunny days, clear nights, although still breezy and cool. Let us hope I am not jinxing the weather by writing this!
I want to give a quick thanks to Ryan Fasano and Kirsten Mizzi, both of whom sent wonderful care packages full of magazines and treats. Among the goodies, they both included Bill Simmons articles and the same Maxim issue. I guess my tastes are well known. And speaking of magazines telling me of events from a month ago, it sounds like the NBA finals were pretty fantastic. I enjoy reading magazines I get as if they were current; at this rate, upon my triumphant US return, I will only be a few months behind the on world events, sports and pop culture (as opposed to 2 years). Of course, even in the states I was perpetually behind-the-times, so maybe nothing will change!
Quick tangent—like a little kid, I have taken to covering my walls with interesting photos and such from magazines. One such picture is an Adidas ad for deodorant featuring a gang of Notre Dame football players making a tackle. Setting aside the difficulty in finding a recent photo of Notre Dame players actually making a tackle, since when does ND sell-out for deodorant? This Adidas ad is a far cry from the classic Champion-ND commercials of my childhood (“It takes a little more to make a Champion!”), the timing of which always seemed to coincide with the Planicka household getting a bit dusty. Oh well, I guess I should be happy to see ND portrayed in any sort of positive light after last year. If the wearing of Adidas deodorant leads to a national champ..., I mean, a winning season, then I guess it’s alright.
Getting back to Madagascar, one of the skills I have been trying to master since my arrival is the ability to observe everything around you while walking. You never know when you might see an interesting critter, in the trees, on the ground, anywhere. I am pretty terrible at this, and usually rely on others to point out chameleons or frogs. But today I got lucky, and as the cliché uttered by so many sports players say, it is better to be lucky than good. For the second time, I saw a Tenrec (which I previously wrote about), and this time I had my camera! The little fella posed for me and allowed some good pictures, but when I tried to put the camera on a timer and get in the shot with him, he quickly scampered away. The same thing happens when I try to get in a picture with the geckos at my house. Apparently the local wildlife is worried I’ll ruin their photo-op!
As for the Malagasy people and photo opportunities, I think we are making progress. At a recent compost lesson, I succeeded in getting most of the people to look at the camera and smile, something that has proven challenging. The nice thing about digital cameras is you can show people the shot immediately, and they can self-police with phrases like: “hey, you’re not smiling” and “can we take another?” Technology is wonderful, and I promise I will be able to share some of these photos with you all eventually!
Random Madagascar fact—the Indri, the type of lemur I hear each morning from my house, has an impressive voice: its song can carry up to 3km. Spread out throughout the rainforest, Indri call to each other every morning and again at nights. The following is from Bradt’s Madagascar Guide : “In Malagasy the Indri is called babakoto which means “father of Koto.” It is fady (fady means taboo basically) to kill an Indri, the legend being that the boy Koto climbed a tree in the forest to collect wild honey, and was severely stung by the bees. Losing his hold, he fell, but was caught by an Indri which carried him on its back to safety.” A timely alarm clock, with a haunting wailing song AND life-saving credentials make the Indri far superior to that other more annoying morning and evening crow-er, the rooster. Fady is itself an interesting concept, and each local area has their own set of fady or taboos. A relatively benign one in my area is you cannot work in the fields with a shovel. More interesting ones are you cannot wear red during a thunderstorm (because you will be struck by lightning) in parts of the country, and a friend of mine on the south coast says its is fady in his town to have stairs, perhaps because someone fell off a particularly high flight of stairs? Of course, we Americans harbor our own share of social taboos that may trike outsiders as odd (throwing salt over you shoulder, calling “shot gun” in a car, not walking under a ladder or other “bad luck” fears, etc)
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