About a month ago now, I moved to my new town, which is significantly bigger and richer than either of my past two villages. The first sign of this wealth? Walls. My previous villages had flimsy fences of papyrus reeds that cows could knock over with their breath (granted, cows have strong breath!), if they had fences at all. My new town has brick and concrete walls, topped with shards of broken glass to deter… thieves who don’t wear shoes, perhaps? I think it is a truism that when you have more wealth and prosperity, you have more to protect. Your defenses increase and your relationships with your neighbors decrease. There are still plenty of small huts and houses sharing communal ground here, but there are also many veritable compounds set off from the neighborhoods with high walls and mean dogs. Of course, we see the same phenomenon in the USA: small tight-knit neighborhoods giving way to walled off and/or separated large lots (Madison folks - so would that make “Woodgate” the equivalent of a village?)
There are other signs of this new wealth and prosperity in my town: electricity, meat in the market every day, and cold beers among my favorites. One new aspect that I had not given much thought before my arrival is a roof on my shower. In both of my last two villages, I had a shower stall of reeds about shoulder high with no roof. While this exposed my upper body to all on-lookers (and a 6ft white man regularly[1] bathing himself attracts a few), I had no problem with it. The roofless top allowed me plenty of range in showering; this is important because by showering I mean a “bucket shower,” or pouring cold water by the cupful over my head and body. Of course, this meant that if I wanted to shower when it was raining, then I showered in the rain. As I now know, this was a small price to pay…
In my training village, way back in early 2008, I also had a roof on my host family’s shower. This proved to be an unexpected challenge. As with most things in Madagascar, the shower roof was way too short for me, so I could not stand up in there. I had to crouch, in the “sitting on your heels” mode that is so popular in much of the developing world, and pour cups of water over my head, shifting my body to allow one cup to soak as much of my body as possible. I adapted to this relatively quickly, and it proved to be the far less embarrassing of my shower challenges during training[2].
So now I am back to this old method, as my shower here is tall enough for me to stand up in, but not tall enough for me to pour water over my head. So I crouch once again, and do the Shower Shimmy: head-shake into shoulder-shake into booty-shake, cleaning my whole body with the minimum of water. I know it sounds like a touchdown dance, but it’s a talent, really. And now that I have to be somewhat presentable at my office job, and because it’s getting hot again, I do this Shower Shimmy more frequently and it is getting to be almost fun! Not as much fun as my other cooling-off technique: sitting in front of my fan and listening to Christmas jams. I can almost feel the snow!
Last time I mentioned the political and social situation a bit. The constitutional referendum is this week, so we may finally see the beginning of a democratic solution to the almost-two-year-impasse. There are some protests in the capital, but everywhere else seems calm. I did want to point out this article, written in English by a Malagasy person (I assume from the last name), which does an excellent job summing up some of the many issues facing Madagascar and other developing countries. Some samples:
"The lack of effective information and active citizen engagement are among the reasons why the impact of climate change has been felt so strongly in Madagascar. There has been a flagrant degradation of all natural resources, and the Malagasy state continues to ignores the issue, only to pretend to engage with environmental politics at election time. If we don't act, the future of this country will be sealed within a few years."
"The farmer is nothing but an observer because he is unable to resist the deforestation and has no opportunity to reap the financial benefits of these industries – unless he opens a tavern for the nearby workers. He is the impoverished victim of the situation. The farmers lose their way and place of life."
"But the important question is: do the Malagasy really know what climate change is? Until they understand the impact and are able to adapt their lifestyle? Madagascar's prospects could be bleak."
[1] Regularly being about once-to-twice a week. Hey, I’m an environment volunteer!
[2] Long-time readers of this site may recall a tale from my first morning at my host family during training, in which I awoke to an unfamiliar environment and, rather than try my non-verbal communication skills to find the shower (not yet knowing any Malagasy), proceeded to shower in my room. That’s right, I stood over a bucket while I poured cups of water out of my water filter over my body. This later made a few of Madagascar’s ministers laugh at our swearing-in ceremony when another PCV told the story as an ice-breaker during his speech.
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