Monday, May 4, 2009

The beginnings of trouble...

When “trouble” erupted in Madagascar, I was completely naïve to it, like most of the country's population who live in quiet rural communities, I would say. On Jan 24th, I skimmed a string of emails regarding student protests in the capital of Antananarivo, sent by our safety and security officer. In all honesty, I didn't really absorb any of the information. All I could think of was a month worth of internet “to-do's,” and how the rise in per minute internet costs in Mahajunga were going to make this particular day at the internet cafe even more stressful to get done quickly. Plus – as I skimmed all I could think was, the capital, Tana, felt like a million miles away to me (or a least a 12 hour, all-night taxi brousse ride) and I had no plans to be anywhere near the Analakely (downtown Tana) anytime soon. I thought, whatever was happening there, really didn't affect my life out west in my quiet town of Marovoay and generally disregarded the entire warning.

January 26th; widespread looting takes over the capital, the National Radio was burned and no longer broadcasting, along with the Malagasy TV station, TVM. Violence and chaos seem to be the general themes of the day. Like most nights in Madagascar, I called my friend Laila living on the Southeast coast of the island to chat. Her first words to me were along the lines of: “Wow, can you believe this? This is all so crazy! Eugene and I are talking about what happened today in Tana...” to which I respond, “ummm...What?! what's happening in Tana?” I spent all day in class, with students, and clearly there was no “maresaka” (talk) in my town. So Laila laid out the framework of the conflict and what had taken place during the first “real” day of protests, or the day things stopped being peaceful.

January 27th; I set out on a morning mission to find out what my community was saying about the conflict. The general response seemed to be a lot of rolling eyes at the historical mess of Malagasy politics, with everyone saying, “tsy mahay manao politique i Malagasy!” (Malagasy people don't know how to do politics!) There was a lot of talk about the issues in contention, like Mr. President purchasing an AirForceOne-type jet for millions of dollars amongst a land of humble farmers, and his obvious monopoly on manufactured dairy products, oil, and soap, and the distribution of imported goods, just to name a few. In a nutshell, people were pissed. They seemed to think the Ravelomanana got what was coming to him...but they weren't so easy to endorse the fighting and violence. They agreed change was necessary, but they sure wouldn't be taking up arms, and they seemed rather indifferent to what a resolution would entail. Nevertheless, the ladies told me to stock up on soap and oil the next day at the market - products that become scarce when politics heat up in Madagascar.
When classes ended, I called Laila to discuss the events of day and tell her what I heard in Marovoay. From her I find out that Peace Corps had been sending out texts all day which I had not received! The situation had gone from bad to worse. Protesters had sacked Jumbo, the foreign supermarket, looted it completely and burnt it out. Then they moved over to Magro, kind-of like the Malagasy Costco, owned by the President, and hit a variety of other Tana businesses. That day the sacking of Magro took place nationwide, including in my dear Mahajunga. The worst, the death toll was rising, 33 were burned to death in Tana and 3 in Mahajunga. Rumors started to swirl - all food reserves had been destroyed...all food and cooking oil manufacturing plants had been burned...this is the work of the exiled President Ratsirika...Mahajunga was a smoldering town in chaos...PC is going to call for evacuation in the AM...etc. I spent the majority of the night on a 4-way phone call between Laila, Rachel and Jeff. I spoke with the PC Security Officer that evening about the safety of my town, and as we spoke for the first time, my town was not quiet at night. I could hear shouting and clanking in the distance; people were looting two large stores/warehouses in my town. I was scared and so, I painted my toenails because I couldn't sleep.

January 28th; I walked into my 8am class and burst into tears. I turned my back to the class and started to write their lesson on the blackboard, trying to pull myself together. All I could think about was that heinous rumor of evacuation. I had committed to two years of life and work in this town. If I left there was no teacher to replace me, my students relied on me to teach them the curriculum to prepare them for their entrance exams for high school. Additionally, I felt guilty about my easy out in this situation. If times got hard, my government would send me home where soap and oil were plentiful, where trade and transport don't break down on a whim, and while no government is perfect, I could rely that through thick or thin, even in the worst of times and economies, my government would do its best to ensure my welfare. These are luxuries the Malagasy people can't depend on. What would happen to my students and their families, who are literally scraping a life together daily from the soil around them?
At my High School English club, I gave my dutiful students a vocabulary set for them to talk about the conflict, wrote some open-ended questions on the board to guide their thought processes, and asked them to spend 30 minutes exploring and writing about their opinions of the current conflict, its orgins, the impact in our community, and what they thought would be the ideal outcome. I was overwhelmed by their sharp analysis of the situation, and was shocked to find out not a single teacher had brought up the current events of the nation in 3 school days! I led our discussion to address the non-violence movement, remembering that I had seen books in French about Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. in the town library, and encouraged them to investigate and learn more and of course I was always available to talk.
For the nation, Wednesday was a day of tense calm. The first two days of the week had brought so much destruction and disarray to the country, it was an eerie calm. It was another sleepless night for me, our status had been moved to “standfast” which meant have a bag packed for emergency evacuation and be ready to leave at a moments notice. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much for another night.
Rumors continued to swirl between the plateau and the coastal areas. With the break down in the national radio broadcasting system, concrete events were hard to come by and as the capital was dividing into pro- and con- government groups, it was hard to sift through all the hazy reports and get the facts about the situation. But it seemed certain that the conflict had not yet come to a head, and “uncertain” became the name of the game in Madagascar.

Thursday January, 29th; the Peace Corps made the decision to move into the next phase of the emergency action plan, Consolidation. In the next few hours, volunteers started to move together into groups where the Peace Corps would be able to better manage the crisis, and connect with groups of volunteers by a single phone call instead of calling each of us individually. Peace Corps cars would be able to retrieve groups of volunteers with one stop on a main road. I received the call for consolidation just as I had returned home from my morning classes about noon (although Laila had already informed me via text message.) I was told that I would be moving to the Peace Corps training center in Montasoa because Mahajunga had been unstable throughout the week, there were concerns about holding us in a conflict hot spot, obviously. I knew there wasn't enough time to catch the afternoon brousse to Tana that day, which was nice, as I had a chance to do some packing, prioritizing, and well, laundry and cleaning.
I prepared silently. I knew there was a chance that I would not be returning to my home, I was told to relay the message to my counterpart that I was attending a security conference in Tana for the weekend, and didn't know exactly when I would be returning. I couldn't bring myself to tell my counterpart Bonne that I was going on Thursday. At noon on Friday, I got my courage up and told him I would be leaving in the afternoon, as if I had just found out myself. He looked sad and worried as I told him I was leaving for the “meeting.” He kept saying, “the kids. the kids. they are just getting used to you. they like you. it would be so sad for you to leave them. they would be so sad.” To which I wanted to scream: “what about me!? I'll be sad if I have to leave them! I love them! This is my life here too!”
To my friends, I gave them all big hugs (er...handshakes, Gasy people are big into the handshakes) and told them I would see them soon. They all looked at me like I was CRAZY. There was a BIG protest planned for Saturday in Tana. Why was I going TO the conflict? Everything was perfectly safe in the quite metropolis of Marovoay, why would the Peace Corps have me leave my town to be in possible danger? But it was the question that reverberated all the way down the hill that haunted me: “handeha hody ianao?” (are you going home?) To which I responded: “of course NOT! just to a meeting in Tana...see you in a few days!”
And so I left my town, house, friends, students, and life for almost three weeks of consolidation in Montasoa...

1 comment:

  1. Hello Whitney.

    I read your blog today and felt compelled to respond to it. My oldest son is 22 years old, and has been an exchange student in Madagascar since arriving there on January 10. Not long after his arrival, news of the unrest in that country began to travel around and my son found himself alone in the far south trying to get back up to Tana. Even the U.S. Embassy was looking for him, as he had registered there when he arrived in country, upon my strong recommendation.

    Until yesterday, he had spent the past three months almost exiled on the island of Nosy-Be with his fellow American students, of which now only seven of the original 16 remain. The others have all been pulled back to the U.S. either by their universities or their parents. My son is now in the highlands somewhere finishing his independent study project, and will be traveling to Pretoria, South Africa in a few weeks to spend a while with my friends who live there.

    He loves Madagascar and the people and the culture itself, and has never really considered leaving there because of the unrest, which has never been directed at foreigners or any kind. I have read every morsel of news that I can regarding the conflict in order to track my son's safety there, and I have to say I was surprised when the Peace Corps and missionaries were pulled out so quickly. My older brother long ago served in the Peace Corps in Niamey, Niger, and he also was surprised at how quickly it happened, especially since it is a Malagasy problem that has nothing to do with outsiders.

    For awhile my son was in Tana and then in Mahajanga, and he could see evidence of the unrest there, even being close to some of the demonstrations. I have never really considered him to be in danger, especially when he was with his coordinator from the University of Antananarivo and the other students. I have been more worried that he would be targeted as an obvious white foreigner with money to steal, which almost became the case last week. I will be happy when he is gone from Madagascar so I can breathe again, but I think I will still keep track of all that is going on.

    By all accounts it's a beautiful island with very friendly, non-violent inhabitants, and it's caught up in a political struggle that threatens to send it into civil war. Rajoelina is not going to give up his newfound toy, and Ravalomanana wants it back. The AU and the SADC isn't exactly sure what to do about it, and France is itching to normalize relations with the new government because it wasn't exactly enamored with the old one. Hence Ratsiraka living there in exile these past years.

    I hope the best for Madagascar, and I hope you are one day able to return there. Actually, I hope to go there myself someday because my son has spoken so eloquently about the beauty and the uniqueness of the place and its people. Good luck in your travels.

    John Hempe

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