This Time for Africa!

The World Cup is here, and it hit Madagascar like it probably hit the rest of the world (sans the United States): in force. People here have definitely caught the fever (Nahazo ny Tazo!) and are tuning in throughout the country, any way they can. This is the first World Cup to be held in Africa, and as such the advertising is heavy on moving images of African players returning to their home continent (wearing sweet yellow Africa United jerseys, no less) and various songs/commercials focusing on the momentous event. The one song that is being played nonstop is Shakira’s World Cup anthem, with various South African languages and its English refrain of This Time For Africa. Perhaps I was paying more attention to this song that I should have, but I found myself recently questioning what it meant, a World Cup for Africa? I had two recent, very different, experiences that help to illustrate the dichotomy of my particular slice of Africa (note: don’t tell the Malagasy they are part of Africa!) and watching the World Cup here.

The first occurred in Ambatondrazaka, my banking town. With a group of 8 Peace Corps Volunteers, I watched the US-England match (Or as I dubbed it: 1812 Part Deux: Payback Time!). It was 9:30 pm. We wore bright blue track suits, red and white bandanas, red and blue face paint, and carried an American flag with us. We watched at a nice restaurant with French fries and steak. We drank cold beer (quick aside: THB has another new beer-“Bex”) and rum and cokes. We were loud American fans, supporting our team in a match that held little interest for most Malagasy. It was a fun night, but that experience could’ve been anywhere in the world (or, a very similar experience).

The second occurred in my village. I watched Cote d’Ivoire vs. Portugal in a papyrus-roofed shack outside the hospital, utilizing the charge from a solar panel to power the television and the satellite needed to broadcast the game. It was 5pm, but already dark, quiet and felt like 9pm. When the battery inevitably died halfway through the match (it had rained all day), we waited while they fired up the small generator, and watched the rest of the match by candlelight. I was surrounded by Malagasy men, rooting for the African nation, but respecting both sides when they played well. They made lots of what I call the “Sihanaka Shock” noise: “Way way way way!” (start high and end low, preferably while moving your head back and forth). When the game finished, I went home and cooked rice and an omelet with tomatoes and onions, read by candlelight and then went to bed by 8:30pm – a late night, but a fun one!

It is important to realize that both these experiences make up some of what it means to have an “African” World Cup. South Africa is a good host country, in that it exemplifies the dichotomy of Africa: rich and poor, developed and rural, white and black. I bet if you went to any African country, you would see examples of these divides. Indeed, you can see them anywhere, even in the US. But the most important lesson that the World Cup should remind us of? Events like this help people take their minds off their own troubles and allow them all, rich and poor, Malagasy and “Vazaha,” farmers and government ministers, to relax and watch the best Football (sorry, “Soccer!”) in the world. Cheers to you all!

You Can’t Start a Fire, You Can’t Start a Fire Without a Spark…

I recently returned from a rainforest trip to “my” national park, Zahamena, for a guide training. Our tour guides are not on the same level as most major national parks, due largely to the lack of tourists in our area. They have had little experience catering to tourists, and far too little time spent preparing in the rainforest. So we had guides and personnel from one of Madagascar National Parks (d/b/a ANGAP)’s flagship parks, Andasibe, come up to lead a training. They focused on bio-diversity, engaging tourists, presentation and other important qualities for any good guide to know. They crammed a lot of high-level material into a brief two-day training. The main result was that our guides realized how much they had yet to learn: distinguishing between obscure plant and animal life, recognizing all the sounds and smells of the forest, observing and pointing out any detail that might interest a tourist, and explaining everything in detail (not to mention English and French language skills).

The trainers talked about creating the infrastructure to handle major groups of tourists in our park. Now, to put this in perspective, Andasibe receives hundreds of tourists a week (maybe even a day?) while Zahamena has yet to see a dozen tourists since my arrival in November. The access to Zahamena is very poor, as you must traverse a series of dirt roads over numerous mountains. Even getting from the capital, Tana, to our region is a more difficult ride than many tourists would care to attempt. Our small group of six guides looked on in awe as the trainers talked of their multi-talented guides in Andasibe, and how their group of 20 guides was not enough to handle all the tourists pouring into the park. Obviously, they were comparing apples and oranges, or perhaps litchis and mangoes…

All of this makes me think about a chicken and the egg scenario (that’s Akoho sy Atody, for those of you Malagasy languages fanatics keeping track at home): How can a community increase tourism without improving the infrastructure for receiving tourists (including guide training, roads, trails, accommodation, etc.)? Yet how can a community prioritize tourism improvements, and more importantly fund them, without any tourists or sign that they may eventually come? One is tempted to quote Field of Dreams:
“Is this Heaven?”
“No, It’s Iowa”
Wait, that’s not the one… here we go: “If you build it, they will come.”
While that quote is very inspiring, it has probably led many people to attempt projects without any consideration of their likely success. I often think of tourism here in Madagascar as a zero-sum game (sorry if that terminology is wrong): there are only so many tourists coming to Madagascar, and in order to increase tourists to one park, you must decrease those going to another. Most people claim eco-tourism as the saving grace of Madagascar, the best way to relieve the effects of poverty on the populace while also preserving the island’s special biodiversity. But unless more tourists can be induced to come to the island, and I am pretty convinced that all who want to (and are able to afford to) are already doing so, the parks and communities are forced to compete amongst themselves for tourists and their revenues. So not only would Zahamena need to improve all of its facilities, guides and access roads, it would need to make itself attractive enough to tourists to draw them away from Andasibe and other parks. (Again, for reference, Andasibe is 2.5 hours from the capital on a nice paved road, while Zahamena is a two day trip over mostly slow dirt roads).

So, does that mean I think it is not worth trying to improve the park’s assets? Not at all! First, I am working with the guides on improved training, getting them into the forest for multi-day treks at least once a month. This is also in combination with the forestry service, and their field agents are helping in the technical aspects, while I assist with the “what the tourist needs” portions. Second, we are looking for funding to add to the guides’ meager collection of books and materials on the flora and fauna of the forest, as well as camping materials like tents, binoculars, and other equipment. Furthermore, we are hoping to fund a small office for the guides that would double as an Interpretation Center. Here the guides could pool their resources, have a place to study, and receive tourists (who as of now wander aimlessly around town upon arrival, looking for a guide). It would also be a place to further environmental education amongst the townspeople, and showcase handicrafts and souvenirs that might interest tourists. Third, I am teaching English classes to the guides, in an attempt to increase their marketability when tourists do come (and hopefully those tourists will spread the word of their good experiences). While these projects may not immediately increase the number of tourists coming to our park, we need to start somewhere, and as the Boss says, “You can’t start a fire without a spark…”