I forgot to post my new personal address here!
Miss Whitney Swander
Peace Corps
BP 3523
Marovoay, Madagascar 416
letters take about 2 weeks and packages about a month...love you all!
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
the honeymoon might be over...lol.
September 9th, 2008
Today has been kind of a rough day. I spent most of the day being upset about things that in the long run don't matter, but today they mattered.
Beef #1: Bats.
I was awoken at 5am by fluttering in my house. I listened. definitely wings flapping and bouncing off my walls. But it was still pretty dark, too early for a baby bird to be awake (which I would have actually welcomed given the alternative...) Good thing my cellphone has a flashlight so I could see what was going on...oh woops, put on the glasses, yup confirmed: bat in trano (house). Naturally, I have no idea what you do about bats in houses...so I try ignore the problem and go back to sleep, but who the heck can sleep once you know there is a bat flying around your house?! Not me! So I'm laying in my bed, afraid to leave the confines and security of my mosquito net, when I vaguely remember one of Dr. Alain's omniscience sessions and something about bat being a big problem in houses.
I text him: “There's a bat in my house. what do I do? Whitney in Marovoay”
he responds: “hi. get out now. ask someone 2 take it outside n c how did it get in. Alain.”
1st. thanks for easing my fears Dr. Alain. get out now? really? so blunt. 2nd: nice use of txting abbrev! Mahay! (what you say to anyone who is good at anything or knows something, everyone says I'm “efa mahay malagasay” -already good at malagasy- I say I'm “mahay kely, mianatra foana” - a little good, always learning-...anyway I've digressed.)
So the bat has stopped flying around at this point; with Dr. Alain's encouragement, I muster up my courage and get out of bed throwing open my windows on my way to the door. It's like 5:45 at this point. I grab my keys to go to the bathroom and see Madame Soa, my neighbor and counterpart's wife. I don't know the word for bat in Malagasy, so I tell her there is a “biby kely amin'ny alina any tranoko” (small animal of the night in my house) and make a flapping motion with with my arms. She laughs. and says: “tsy maninona. Misy maro foana foana. tsy maninona. matory foana, indrindra any clase.” (it doesn't matter. there are lots, always. It doesn't matter, they are always sleeping. especially in the classrooms.) this is clearly not the response I'm looking for. So I go back to my house. it has moved. I get out my flashlight and search. no where to be found. maybe it flew out? i wish.
So I usually go for a walk about 5:30pm, get something I forgot for dinner or that needed to be refrigerated, chat with people, or just get out of the house since it's a little cooler; an hour later its dark, and I'm home. I turn on the light and the bat is there flying around in circles. Bonne chased the little thing around my house for a half and hour...and it wouldn't leave. so unfortunately it had to die. He and Soa had different ideas about the bat...he said, yes, let's get it out, their bad and bite people sometimes...Madame Soa kept saying, they are fine, and just sleep all the time. I told her I couldn't live with a bat. If I wanted a roommate I would find one I liked, most likely a cat, not a bat! I hope this isn't a usual problem...
Beef #2: Post Office.
You think the post office is inefficient in the US? you have no idea...I had a letter to mail today and needed it weighed to know the postage cost, so I went to the post office with my friend Mamphiava (Mom-pee-ave-a). When we arrived the man at the desk also said a package had arrived for me, have a seat. Yay! I put my basket down and gave him my letter to be weighed. He weighed it, calculated the price and handed it back to me with out putting the stamps on it. So I handed it back to him and said, “yes, please, I want to mail this.” We wait. Then there comes another man with a paper showing the calculated taxes to be paid for my package. I take it, look at it, fine. I calculate the cost of the letter and the taxes both and get my money out - efficiency is important to me. Then 2 other men come out, one holding the package, the other with a book. The man with the book comes to the window, pushes the book to me mumbles what needs to be filled out – it's very unclear; when I ask for clarification he mumbles some more and pads the book. I figure it out and realize like most things here it's a formality and no one really cares if its done right, just as long as something was done. Then the man wants the tax form back, which says customer copy on it. He reads it, mumbles, and then tells me to sign it, “where?” I ask. mumble mumble. I sign the bottom; then he takes it, looks at it for 10 seconds, then he gives it back. what? the other man is still standing there just holding my package, like he's holding it for ransom. I'm still holding my money, and I realize there is no window big enough to push my package through. it's been a good 30 minutes at this point and I have been the only customer in the Post Office. The first man wants me to pay for the letter, so I pay him the 1900ar, but now I have to wait for the manager of the office to get to his office, he is always away some where, so I can get my package. He mandrosoas us, he mipetraprahas us (come in, have a seat formalities), and acts like we just stopped by to chat about the weather. I'm clearly annoyed at this point. Its hot, i was woken up at 5am by a bat that may or may not still be in my house at this point, and I have been dealing with the pinnacle of inefficiency for over 30 minutes now and I am still the only customer to have entered the post office! (It's like this is the first freaking time there has ever been a package received here...which is not true! I saw that the Japanese volunteers have received many recently!) I tell him, as politely as I can at this point, that I am here, in his office, right now, because I would like to pay the taxes on my package so that I can go to the market and go home. goodness, gracious. He obliged me and didn't keep my much longer. Moral of the story. the Post Office will likely be my most loathed chore here...but the things inside my package made it all worth while! thanks mom! :D love you!
***update on the ridiculousness of the post office...
The next day at about noon, one of the men from the post office comes to my house accompanied by my neighbor Mampihava. She says that he is here to collect his “kado.”(gift) For the first 2 minutes I am honestly confused. She is telling me that I need to give him some $$ because he is the guy that makes sure people don't steal out of my packages. I play dumb because I am just so awe struck that this man has the audacity to arrive at my house, as I'm cooking lunch, to collect money under the table and call it a “gift.” I went a good 10 minutes pretending not to understand because I was just so pissed that this was actually happening. I kept saying, but I already payed the taxes at the office to the manager, you should get the $$ from him. “no, but you need to give him a gift.” why do I need to pay him as well. “no no no, its a gift.” She told me to give him like 1000ar, which is not much, but its the principle that a) its not a gift when you arrive at my house demanding a gift b) that i have to pay extra under the table to get all of the stuff people send me! (if some one had told me, you should give Mr. X 1000ar when you get your packages to make sure they arrive safely and completely I would have, but it was the circumstance of an uninvited stranger in my house demanding money that really pissed me off.)
So when I finally “understood” the situation, and it was clear that I was angry. I apologized and smiled really sweet and told him that in my country it was illegal for government workers to ask for, let alone just receive monetary gifts for the work the government pays them to do. And that is why I am upset that he is in my house, but I now understand the culture here and I appreciate him watching out for my packages. He apologized with the big apology phrase “miala tsiny” and not to be afraid...
Mainly he ruined my lunch, and most of my afternoon, and made me cry for the second time since getting to Madagascar. But getting over it...
Beef #3 (and final for the day): Ants.
Dear Ants,
Remember when I arrived I told you I didn't like you in my house? especially in my kitchen area? well I have maintained the white powdery boarder of ant killer in the places I could see you entering my house, yet you are finding new undetected ways to get in. Stop! find some one else to bother! I know that honey comb you broke into was delicious, but it was a gift from Kami! For me, not you! Additionally, I just find you annoying. I think you are gone, and then one slice into the pineapple and it's like you arrive in a line out of thin air. Stop! you are gross. and I have no issues you in drowning you and smashing you - so in an effort of self preservation, you should go elsewhere. Some volunteers even like their ants, just not me. Go live with Tara, she'll let you clean her jam jars and do clean up duty on other bugs she kills...
But as a warning dear ants, while I'm away in Mahajunga, I'll be dousing my house in ant killer hoping you'll be gone when I return...or least that I'll be able to sweep you out of my life!
fitiavana (love),
Whitney
Today has been kind of a rough day. I spent most of the day being upset about things that in the long run don't matter, but today they mattered.
Beef #1: Bats.
I was awoken at 5am by fluttering in my house. I listened. definitely wings flapping and bouncing off my walls. But it was still pretty dark, too early for a baby bird to be awake (which I would have actually welcomed given the alternative...) Good thing my cellphone has a flashlight so I could see what was going on...oh woops, put on the glasses, yup confirmed: bat in trano (house). Naturally, I have no idea what you do about bats in houses...so I try ignore the problem and go back to sleep, but who the heck can sleep once you know there is a bat flying around your house?! Not me! So I'm laying in my bed, afraid to leave the confines and security of my mosquito net, when I vaguely remember one of Dr. Alain's omniscience sessions and something about bat being a big problem in houses.
I text him: “There's a bat in my house. what do I do? Whitney in Marovoay”
he responds: “hi. get out now. ask someone 2 take it outside n c how did it get in. Alain.”
1st. thanks for easing my fears Dr. Alain. get out now? really? so blunt. 2nd: nice use of txting abbrev! Mahay! (what you say to anyone who is good at anything or knows something, everyone says I'm “efa mahay malagasay” -already good at malagasy- I say I'm “mahay kely, mianatra foana” - a little good, always learning-...anyway I've digressed.)
So the bat has stopped flying around at this point; with Dr. Alain's encouragement, I muster up my courage and get out of bed throwing open my windows on my way to the door. It's like 5:45 at this point. I grab my keys to go to the bathroom and see Madame Soa, my neighbor and counterpart's wife. I don't know the word for bat in Malagasy, so I tell her there is a “biby kely amin'ny alina any tranoko” (small animal of the night in my house) and make a flapping motion with with my arms. She laughs. and says: “tsy maninona. Misy maro foana foana. tsy maninona. matory foana, indrindra any clase.” (it doesn't matter. there are lots, always. It doesn't matter, they are always sleeping. especially in the classrooms.) this is clearly not the response I'm looking for. So I go back to my house. it has moved. I get out my flashlight and search. no where to be found. maybe it flew out? i wish.
So I usually go for a walk about 5:30pm, get something I forgot for dinner or that needed to be refrigerated, chat with people, or just get out of the house since it's a little cooler; an hour later its dark, and I'm home. I turn on the light and the bat is there flying around in circles. Bonne chased the little thing around my house for a half and hour...and it wouldn't leave. so unfortunately it had to die. He and Soa had different ideas about the bat...he said, yes, let's get it out, their bad and bite people sometimes...Madame Soa kept saying, they are fine, and just sleep all the time. I told her I couldn't live with a bat. If I wanted a roommate I would find one I liked, most likely a cat, not a bat! I hope this isn't a usual problem...
Beef #2: Post Office.
You think the post office is inefficient in the US? you have no idea...I had a letter to mail today and needed it weighed to know the postage cost, so I went to the post office with my friend Mamphiava (Mom-pee-ave-a). When we arrived the man at the desk also said a package had arrived for me, have a seat. Yay! I put my basket down and gave him my letter to be weighed. He weighed it, calculated the price and handed it back to me with out putting the stamps on it. So I handed it back to him and said, “yes, please, I want to mail this.” We wait. Then there comes another man with a paper showing the calculated taxes to be paid for my package. I take it, look at it, fine. I calculate the cost of the letter and the taxes both and get my money out - efficiency is important to me. Then 2 other men come out, one holding the package, the other with a book. The man with the book comes to the window, pushes the book to me mumbles what needs to be filled out – it's very unclear; when I ask for clarification he mumbles some more and pads the book. I figure it out and realize like most things here it's a formality and no one really cares if its done right, just as long as something was done. Then the man wants the tax form back, which says customer copy on it. He reads it, mumbles, and then tells me to sign it, “where?” I ask. mumble mumble. I sign the bottom; then he takes it, looks at it for 10 seconds, then he gives it back. what? the other man is still standing there just holding my package, like he's holding it for ransom. I'm still holding my money, and I realize there is no window big enough to push my package through. it's been a good 30 minutes at this point and I have been the only customer in the Post Office. The first man wants me to pay for the letter, so I pay him the 1900ar, but now I have to wait for the manager of the office to get to his office, he is always away some where, so I can get my package. He mandrosoas us, he mipetraprahas us (come in, have a seat formalities), and acts like we just stopped by to chat about the weather. I'm clearly annoyed at this point. Its hot, i was woken up at 5am by a bat that may or may not still be in my house at this point, and I have been dealing with the pinnacle of inefficiency for over 30 minutes now and I am still the only customer to have entered the post office! (It's like this is the first freaking time there has ever been a package received here...which is not true! I saw that the Japanese volunteers have received many recently!) I tell him, as politely as I can at this point, that I am here, in his office, right now, because I would like to pay the taxes on my package so that I can go to the market and go home. goodness, gracious. He obliged me and didn't keep my much longer. Moral of the story. the Post Office will likely be my most loathed chore here...but the things inside my package made it all worth while! thanks mom! :D love you!
***update on the ridiculousness of the post office...
The next day at about noon, one of the men from the post office comes to my house accompanied by my neighbor Mampihava. She says that he is here to collect his “kado.”(gift) For the first 2 minutes I am honestly confused. She is telling me that I need to give him some $$ because he is the guy that makes sure people don't steal out of my packages. I play dumb because I am just so awe struck that this man has the audacity to arrive at my house, as I'm cooking lunch, to collect money under the table and call it a “gift.” I went a good 10 minutes pretending not to understand because I was just so pissed that this was actually happening. I kept saying, but I already payed the taxes at the office to the manager, you should get the $$ from him. “no, but you need to give him a gift.” why do I need to pay him as well. “no no no, its a gift.” She told me to give him like 1000ar, which is not much, but its the principle that a) its not a gift when you arrive at my house demanding a gift b) that i have to pay extra under the table to get all of the stuff people send me! (if some one had told me, you should give Mr. X 1000ar when you get your packages to make sure they arrive safely and completely I would have, but it was the circumstance of an uninvited stranger in my house demanding money that really pissed me off.)
So when I finally “understood” the situation, and it was clear that I was angry. I apologized and smiled really sweet and told him that in my country it was illegal for government workers to ask for, let alone just receive monetary gifts for the work the government pays them to do. And that is why I am upset that he is in my house, but I now understand the culture here and I appreciate him watching out for my packages. He apologized with the big apology phrase “miala tsiny” and not to be afraid...
Mainly he ruined my lunch, and most of my afternoon, and made me cry for the second time since getting to Madagascar. But getting over it...
Beef #3 (and final for the day): Ants.
Dear Ants,
Remember when I arrived I told you I didn't like you in my house? especially in my kitchen area? well I have maintained the white powdery boarder of ant killer in the places I could see you entering my house, yet you are finding new undetected ways to get in. Stop! find some one else to bother! I know that honey comb you broke into was delicious, but it was a gift from Kami! For me, not you! Additionally, I just find you annoying. I think you are gone, and then one slice into the pineapple and it's like you arrive in a line out of thin air. Stop! you are gross. and I have no issues you in drowning you and smashing you - so in an effort of self preservation, you should go elsewhere. Some volunteers even like their ants, just not me. Go live with Tara, she'll let you clean her jam jars and do clean up duty on other bugs she kills...
But as a warning dear ants, while I'm away in Mahajunga, I'll be dousing my house in ant killer hoping you'll be gone when I return...or least that I'll be able to sweep you out of my life!
fitiavana (love),
Whitney
Getting Settled.
Sept 5, 2008
Today I have officially been in my house in Marovoay for ONE WHOLE WEEK and I am exhausted! I arrived last Thursday, early evening, and have spent the last 8 days figuring out how things operate here. And I can confidently say, I'm still not exactly sure, but I've survived the first week and I'm enjoying it, so it can only get easier...right? heee...
But first things first. Installation...
Early Saturday morning after swearing-in and after the crazy fun night we had in Tana, Lauren and I loaded up the PC Land Crusier and headed out west. Our driver, Doda, is quite possibly the hippest, chillest, most down Malagasy man, EVER. The man just smacks of cool. He's got the spikey hair, knock-off Gucci shades, some sweet driving gloves, and just a really cool aura. And of course our installer, the Chocolate Man himself, Robert, who is also the PC Training Director. (We call him Chocolate because the best chocolate here in Madagascar is called Robert...naturally.) So we drove all day Saturday. ALL DAY. It was an 11 hour drive and Doda is a professional! The PC tells us to double the travel time in a PC car versus the Brousse during the rainy season...that means when I head to Tana in December for In-service Training it might take 20 hours...ugh. I'll deal with that when the time comes...as for now, the National Route out to Mahajunga is one of the best - it's paved and well maintained the whole way. So I've got that going for me. We take a night brousse out west usually because its such a long trip you might as well sleep through it, so it was really amazing to actually get to see the landscape on the way at least once. All in all it's a lot of beautiful nothing, reminiscent of parts of southern California; huges dry mountains, with valleys below, some scattered farmland and a few sparse villages.
When we finally got to Mahajunga, we checked in to the 2nd choice PCV hotel, Kanto, because Chez Chaubad was full. (Kanto is 14,000AR = $8.75 a night...and you get what you pay for...our bed was a frame with random slates of wood and about 4 inches of foam, the shared showers, just a faucet about 2m up with cold water...the toilet, not pretty.) That night we decided to test the strength and health of our digestive systems with a meal of brochettes and beer, the Mahajunga specialty. Down on the boardwalk women set up shop each night, cooking delicious beef brochettes on a charcoal grill. The brochettes are always served with lasary (grated veggies and green mango in vinaigrette), and then there are platters of samosas, cutlus (mashed potatoes with garlic, ginger and onion and fried into patties), mangahazo (cassava, the root tapioca is made of), and pakopako, (tortilla like things); you just tell the lady how many of what and she heats it up, and for dessert coconut crepes and super sweet fried bananas. And of course it wouldn't be a true experience without the national beer, THB, to wash it all down. Clearly a healthy meal (ha!) but it is amazingly delicious and very Malagasy.
Sunday was “vacation day.” Robert, Doda, Lauren and I went to the plague (beach) and oh was it sweet. We spent the day laying on lamaka (straw mats) under umbrellas, relaxing, laughing and eating fried fishes, fried breads, more brochette, and drinking beer. The ocean felt amazing and it was the most perfect transition day after the frustrations of training and before the unknowns of settling in at site. Also, Lucy, a 3rd year edu volunteer out west came to help us shop, and Tara the environment volunteer across the bay came too! Our whole banking crew minus Dave was together!
Monday was the shopping day, and it was such a terrible, painful experience that I think my mind is already starting to repress the memories. ha ha! Imagine, 2 American women each with a list of things to purchase for their new homes, 2 Malagasy men, and a Malagasy city where there is no such thing as a Home Depot, Target, or Fred Meyers. In fact the concept of a specialized store is really non-existent here. So you just wander the streets looking at the market, street stands and random little shops, and of course we as American women want to know our options, just imagine the events that occurred...also, people here see foreigners and they naturally think tourist and $$$$! So prices are higher naturally, that's why we have our Malagasy PC escorts to help us out...but Robert seemed to always piss off the vendors on the street and then they wanted to charge us even more. The highlight of my day was when Lauren snook away with Lucy to actually buy the stuff she needed and Robert took me into some little general store and said, “you need food, right? go buy it.” Everything there I had at my site...I wanted things like spices, kitchenwares, etc! anyway, frustrating, but we did it. It took ALLDAY - it was exhausting.
Lauren has a brand new site, with an empty house, so I tried to let her take the shopping lead and prioritized buying the big things (mattress, table, etc) for myself and grabbing other things in the places she needed to be. Likewise, I got spend a good amount of time with Doda and when I thanked him for driving us around all day and being so patient, he said there was no reason to thank him because he loved helping volunteers and so naturally he loved his job. He was one of the original PC drivers when PC came to Madagascar in 1993...this man knows almost every town in the country and seems to have a friend on every block of every town, no matter how big or small. he's amazing.
Tuesday we came to Marovoay – set up my house, met the local authorities, did the health and security checks on my house and Wedneday we went to Lauren's site, Mitsinjo. She lives across the Mahajunga bay, and about 3 hours down a bumpy dirt road. Her town is about 1/30 the size of mine, but it seems really great. She lives in the old Red Cross house that has been vacant for quite sometime. At site visit it needed a lot of work, and needless to say it wasn't quite finished when we arrived. But Doda got right to work as soon as we arrived making sure that all the windows and doors were to PC security standards, prioritized the work of the community members helping out, and us ladies got to work killing spiders and sweeping out cobwebs! yuck! When we left Thursday mid-morning it seemed like she was in a good place...furniture to be delivered that afternoon, working stove, and a list of things she wanted to get done. As for me, after we got off the ferry, Doda and Robert dropped me off at the taxi brousse station... and immediately it struck me: I actually live here now.
Something about the west...
We spend most of training talking about the indirectness and reservedness of the Malagasy people. That doesn't apply here in the west. People here always talk at a slight yell and sometimes the tone they use is a little abrasive. After 3 months of plateau life, this can be a little overwhelming at times.
Getting on the taxi brousse to get back home immediately made me wonder what the hell I was doing here in Madagascar! Five guys were all yelling at me to get in the car and trying to charge me twice the fare. After I informed them that I was a volunteer and that I know how much the ride costs they let me be, for a minute. But then when it was time to go because no one had filled the extra seat next to me they said I had to pay it. I said, “are you crazy! I'm a vazaha , but I'm not stupid!” They got very quiet. This was also like the 5th time they had told me I had to pay for the 2 seats upfront and the 5th time I told them no deal.
Likewise, in the market, people are always grabbing my arms, poking me, yelling at me. It's a little much at times. I always try to go to the morning market with someone because there are so many people, and they push and there is no such thing as a line here, and I don't really know where I fit into this system yet. The stores are the same way. Here you don't go into a store, browse, select your items and pay the cashier on the way out. Instead, you go to the store and all the items are behind the counter, so you do your best to see what there is, what you want, and then you tell the store owner, they get it and you pay. It seems silly, but it is kind of intimidating. I'm still learning what there is here, and it seems awkward to just go in and look and not buy anything...and the store owners always seem to have a scowl of their faces so it doesn't make the experience any easier or more pleasant! But I have made a few friends at the epiceries (that's what the stores are called) so I can go in and chat and and look with a little more ease.
As for where I'm I've living...
I feel really lucky to be living where I am. To you all back home, my town would probably look pretty miserable and bleak, but for here in Madagascar I live in a pretty sizable community, I'd say around 20,000, which means there is a decent market everyday with Tuesday and Saturday being the biggest. I can buy almost anything I want here in reason, given growing seasons and what is actually available here in Madagascar (however, I can only buy butter by the pre-cut pat. I tried to see if the store owner would save a chunk the next time butter came in, she seemed unenthusiastic...but I've got two years! one day we'll strike a butter deal, I know it.)
I would say that Marovoay is about the size of Sisters maybe a little bigger, but including all the little neighborhoods, not the just tourist strip on the highway. Bigger towns here in Madagascar are broken up into smaller communities. I live at the top of the hill in which the city is situated around. To an outsider there is one way to get to my house/the CEG...the road, and it is a long, slow, gradual climb. But there are about 6 different lalana kely (foot paths) which are quite dusty, but make the trip into the town center more manageable. The village at the top of the hill is called, Tsara Rivotra, (Good Wind) and it is really the best part of where I live. It's incredible hot, but there is generally at least a light breeze. the worst part of the house...wooden shutters. It is culturally not acceptable to leave a windows open at night for breeze and my house has thick wooden shutters. So whenever, I leave and when I sleep, I have to close my house all up...and needless to say it can be a little stuffy. Clearly I'll survive. :D
Today I have officially been in my house in Marovoay for ONE WHOLE WEEK and I am exhausted! I arrived last Thursday, early evening, and have spent the last 8 days figuring out how things operate here. And I can confidently say, I'm still not exactly sure, but I've survived the first week and I'm enjoying it, so it can only get easier...right? heee...
But first things first. Installation...
Early Saturday morning after swearing-in and after the crazy fun night we had in Tana, Lauren and I loaded up the PC Land Crusier and headed out west. Our driver, Doda, is quite possibly the hippest, chillest, most down Malagasy man, EVER. The man just smacks of cool. He's got the spikey hair, knock-off Gucci shades, some sweet driving gloves, and just a really cool aura. And of course our installer, the Chocolate Man himself, Robert, who is also the PC Training Director. (We call him Chocolate because the best chocolate here in Madagascar is called Robert...naturally.) So we drove all day Saturday. ALL DAY. It was an 11 hour drive and Doda is a professional! The PC tells us to double the travel time in a PC car versus the Brousse during the rainy season...that means when I head to Tana in December for In-service Training it might take 20 hours...ugh. I'll deal with that when the time comes...as for now, the National Route out to Mahajunga is one of the best - it's paved and well maintained the whole way. So I've got that going for me. We take a night brousse out west usually because its such a long trip you might as well sleep through it, so it was really amazing to actually get to see the landscape on the way at least once. All in all it's a lot of beautiful nothing, reminiscent of parts of southern California; huges dry mountains, with valleys below, some scattered farmland and a few sparse villages.
When we finally got to Mahajunga, we checked in to the 2nd choice PCV hotel, Kanto, because Chez Chaubad was full. (Kanto is 14,000AR = $8.75 a night...and you get what you pay for...our bed was a frame with random slates of wood and about 4 inches of foam, the shared showers, just a faucet about 2m up with cold water...the toilet, not pretty.) That night we decided to test the strength and health of our digestive systems with a meal of brochettes and beer, the Mahajunga specialty. Down on the boardwalk women set up shop each night, cooking delicious beef brochettes on a charcoal grill. The brochettes are always served with lasary (grated veggies and green mango in vinaigrette), and then there are platters of samosas, cutlus (mashed potatoes with garlic, ginger and onion and fried into patties), mangahazo (cassava, the root tapioca is made of), and pakopako, (tortilla like things); you just tell the lady how many of what and she heats it up, and for dessert coconut crepes and super sweet fried bananas. And of course it wouldn't be a true experience without the national beer, THB, to wash it all down. Clearly a healthy meal (ha!) but it is amazingly delicious and very Malagasy.
Sunday was “vacation day.” Robert, Doda, Lauren and I went to the plague (beach) and oh was it sweet. We spent the day laying on lamaka (straw mats) under umbrellas, relaxing, laughing and eating fried fishes, fried breads, more brochette, and drinking beer. The ocean felt amazing and it was the most perfect transition day after the frustrations of training and before the unknowns of settling in at site. Also, Lucy, a 3rd year edu volunteer out west came to help us shop, and Tara the environment volunteer across the bay came too! Our whole banking crew minus Dave was together!
Monday was the shopping day, and it was such a terrible, painful experience that I think my mind is already starting to repress the memories. ha ha! Imagine, 2 American women each with a list of things to purchase for their new homes, 2 Malagasy men, and a Malagasy city where there is no such thing as a Home Depot, Target, or Fred Meyers. In fact the concept of a specialized store is really non-existent here. So you just wander the streets looking at the market, street stands and random little shops, and of course we as American women want to know our options, just imagine the events that occurred...also, people here see foreigners and they naturally think tourist and $$$$! So prices are higher naturally, that's why we have our Malagasy PC escorts to help us out...but Robert seemed to always piss off the vendors on the street and then they wanted to charge us even more. The highlight of my day was when Lauren snook away with Lucy to actually buy the stuff she needed and Robert took me into some little general store and said, “you need food, right? go buy it.” Everything there I had at my site...I wanted things like spices, kitchenwares, etc! anyway, frustrating, but we did it. It took ALLDAY - it was exhausting.
Lauren has a brand new site, with an empty house, so I tried to let her take the shopping lead and prioritized buying the big things (mattress, table, etc) for myself and grabbing other things in the places she needed to be. Likewise, I got spend a good amount of time with Doda and when I thanked him for driving us around all day and being so patient, he said there was no reason to thank him because he loved helping volunteers and so naturally he loved his job. He was one of the original PC drivers when PC came to Madagascar in 1993...this man knows almost every town in the country and seems to have a friend on every block of every town, no matter how big or small. he's amazing.
Tuesday we came to Marovoay – set up my house, met the local authorities, did the health and security checks on my house and Wedneday we went to Lauren's site, Mitsinjo. She lives across the Mahajunga bay, and about 3 hours down a bumpy dirt road. Her town is about 1/30 the size of mine, but it seems really great. She lives in the old Red Cross house that has been vacant for quite sometime. At site visit it needed a lot of work, and needless to say it wasn't quite finished when we arrived. But Doda got right to work as soon as we arrived making sure that all the windows and doors were to PC security standards, prioritized the work of the community members helping out, and us ladies got to work killing spiders and sweeping out cobwebs! yuck! When we left Thursday mid-morning it seemed like she was in a good place...furniture to be delivered that afternoon, working stove, and a list of things she wanted to get done. As for me, after we got off the ferry, Doda and Robert dropped me off at the taxi brousse station... and immediately it struck me: I actually live here now.
Something about the west...
We spend most of training talking about the indirectness and reservedness of the Malagasy people. That doesn't apply here in the west. People here always talk at a slight yell and sometimes the tone they use is a little abrasive. After 3 months of plateau life, this can be a little overwhelming at times.
Getting on the taxi brousse to get back home immediately made me wonder what the hell I was doing here in Madagascar! Five guys were all yelling at me to get in the car and trying to charge me twice the fare. After I informed them that I was a volunteer and that I know how much the ride costs they let me be, for a minute. But then when it was time to go because no one had filled the extra seat next to me they said I had to pay it. I said, “are you crazy! I'm a vazaha , but I'm not stupid!” They got very quiet. This was also like the 5th time they had told me I had to pay for the 2 seats upfront and the 5th time I told them no deal.
Likewise, in the market, people are always grabbing my arms, poking me, yelling at me. It's a little much at times. I always try to go to the morning market with someone because there are so many people, and they push and there is no such thing as a line here, and I don't really know where I fit into this system yet. The stores are the same way. Here you don't go into a store, browse, select your items and pay the cashier on the way out. Instead, you go to the store and all the items are behind the counter, so you do your best to see what there is, what you want, and then you tell the store owner, they get it and you pay. It seems silly, but it is kind of intimidating. I'm still learning what there is here, and it seems awkward to just go in and look and not buy anything...and the store owners always seem to have a scowl of their faces so it doesn't make the experience any easier or more pleasant! But I have made a few friends at the epiceries (that's what the stores are called) so I can go in and chat and and look with a little more ease.
As for where I'm I've living...
I feel really lucky to be living where I am. To you all back home, my town would probably look pretty miserable and bleak, but for here in Madagascar I live in a pretty sizable community, I'd say around 20,000, which means there is a decent market everyday with Tuesday and Saturday being the biggest. I can buy almost anything I want here in reason, given growing seasons and what is actually available here in Madagascar (however, I can only buy butter by the pre-cut pat. I tried to see if the store owner would save a chunk the next time butter came in, she seemed unenthusiastic...but I've got two years! one day we'll strike a butter deal, I know it.)
I would say that Marovoay is about the size of Sisters maybe a little bigger, but including all the little neighborhoods, not the just tourist strip on the highway. Bigger towns here in Madagascar are broken up into smaller communities. I live at the top of the hill in which the city is situated around. To an outsider there is one way to get to my house/the CEG...the road, and it is a long, slow, gradual climb. But there are about 6 different lalana kely (foot paths) which are quite dusty, but make the trip into the town center more manageable. The village at the top of the hill is called, Tsara Rivotra, (Good Wind) and it is really the best part of where I live. It's incredible hot, but there is generally at least a light breeze. the worst part of the house...wooden shutters. It is culturally not acceptable to leave a windows open at night for breeze and my house has thick wooden shutters. So whenever, I leave and when I sleep, I have to close my house all up...and needless to say it can be a little stuffy. Clearly I'll survive. :D
Swearing-in!
August 23, 2008
It finally happened! After 10 weeks of miserable weather, rice three times a day, and endless miscommunication between myself and my host family, I AM A VOLUNTEER! and the last week has been CRAZY! We left the training site last Saturday, but not without a goodbye party. Peace Corps Madagascar rolled out the red carpet (well at least for Madagascar...) with white linens, serving an amazing lunch of rice (of course), fried chicken, roast pork, new potatoes, salads, and piles of brownies, cakes, and cookies for about 200 people...and let me say no one was shy about eating! I can't even describe the piles of food people ate...WOW! Xavier, the edu director, Steve, the country director, Robert, the training director, Vola, the mayor, and one of our amazing trainees, Derek, all gave great traditional Kibary (Malagasy speeches) and each of the families was awarded a really nice plaque thanking them for their efforts as hosts. But the highlight of the event was really the conclusion, not because we were finally leaving training, but because of the events that ensued...while most of the moms had already loaded their purses full of cookies and brownies, Robert announced to please take the leftovers home and the next few minutes were a flash and frenzy of plastic sacks being stuffed with food. However, my personal favorite was Natalie's host mom. She pulled out a garbage bag sized sachet and started asking all the tables for their left over food scraps and bones to feed to the pigs. ha ha ha.
From the party, we loaded into the PC vans and headed off to Montasoa, the PC Training Center aka summer camp. We had a good day and a half to relax, process the end of training, spend some last quality time with each other (including bonfires and singing by the lake!) and also to start preparing for the next legs of our journeys. Monday it was off to Tana for one day and then back again to Montasoa, why we did this I'm still unsure. But! we did make it to then alleged “Cookie Shop” and it was just as good as everyone had said it would be...My latte was not all I had hoped for, but my tuna melt bagel is still haunting me with deliciousness and the brownie might be better than any brownie i have ever eaten in my life. I know that is saying a lot, but seriously I am in a place to be making these sorts of statements!
And today, today was the big day. Swearing in. Going to the event, I really thought that it would be a formality. Get dressed up, meet the ambassador, listen to some speeches, repeat the oath and vola, title goes from PCT to PCV – something to check it off the to do list on the way to getting to my site and starting work. I was surprised at how emotional I got! Both Steve and the Ambassador, also both former PCVs, gave really touching speeches about the process of personal growth through service abroad and the impact that one volunteer really does make on a community. whether that be the actual projects that they completed or just the friendships and understanding between people of different cultures. They both made reference that both of these accomplishments are valid and neither is more or less important than the other. And as they are both professional development workers they thanked us for the doing the hard work out in the field and how much they thanked us personally as well as extending from the US Govt. Cheesy I know, but let me tell you, tears flowed. At times I still ponder how important the work i will be doing here...teaching english in one of the 10 poorest countries in the world...but i think that over the course of the next two years my perception of what I am actually do here will change. My job may be teaching, but my work will likely be something related but different...who knows, right?
A funny side note. Laila, my fellow crazy, curly-haired girl, asked if I wanted to go get my hair straightened with her the day before swearing-in. Of course! So about 4pm, we make the 30 minute trek into the little town of Montasoa to find the Coiffure. We ask around, we arrive, we struggle through our lack of necessary vocabulary (come on PC, lets add a style section to the language curriculum!) and finally it is clear what we want done. The woman decides I am first. I sit down in a plastic lawn chair, she gets out the blow dryer – and no electricity. Oh Madagascar! So we ask what time the electricity comes...she doesn't know. But she says just hang out and we'll wait for the electricity. We wait. She brings us her family photo albums, Laila goes out for snacks, and about 10 pictures in I realize these are all pics from funerals. no thanks. After about an hour and 3 runs for snacks (it was rough day...) Laila convinces the woman to let us borrow her dryer and brushes for 3000AR (about $1.75) to do it ourselves at the training center. she agreed. Oh Madagascar!
I digress...tonight we have plans to go over to a volunteer's house here in Tana for a little swearing-in celebration and then we are going out dancing! But not before going to the Hotel du France - from what people tell me they brew their own beer and it is supposedly good. I'm intrigued.
Tomorrow, at 8am we begin Installation. Over the next few days, all 25 of us are scattering about the country accompanied by various PC staff. Lauren and I are going with Robert (aka Chocolate) and Doda out West to Mahajunga first: to shop and get ready to move into our new homes this coming week. eeeee! Then to my site, and then across the bay and down the road to Lauren's site!
It finally happened! After 10 weeks of miserable weather, rice three times a day, and endless miscommunication between myself and my host family, I AM A VOLUNTEER! and the last week has been CRAZY! We left the training site last Saturday, but not without a goodbye party. Peace Corps Madagascar rolled out the red carpet (well at least for Madagascar...) with white linens, serving an amazing lunch of rice (of course), fried chicken, roast pork, new potatoes, salads, and piles of brownies, cakes, and cookies for about 200 people...and let me say no one was shy about eating! I can't even describe the piles of food people ate...WOW! Xavier, the edu director, Steve, the country director, Robert, the training director, Vola, the mayor, and one of our amazing trainees, Derek, all gave great traditional Kibary (Malagasy speeches) and each of the families was awarded a really nice plaque thanking them for their efforts as hosts. But the highlight of the event was really the conclusion, not because we were finally leaving training, but because of the events that ensued...while most of the moms had already loaded their purses full of cookies and brownies, Robert announced to please take the leftovers home and the next few minutes were a flash and frenzy of plastic sacks being stuffed with food. However, my personal favorite was Natalie's host mom. She pulled out a garbage bag sized sachet and started asking all the tables for their left over food scraps and bones to feed to the pigs. ha ha ha.
From the party, we loaded into the PC vans and headed off to Montasoa, the PC Training Center aka summer camp. We had a good day and a half to relax, process the end of training, spend some last quality time with each other (including bonfires and singing by the lake!) and also to start preparing for the next legs of our journeys. Monday it was off to Tana for one day and then back again to Montasoa, why we did this I'm still unsure. But! we did make it to then alleged “Cookie Shop” and it was just as good as everyone had said it would be...My latte was not all I had hoped for, but my tuna melt bagel is still haunting me with deliciousness and the brownie might be better than any brownie i have ever eaten in my life. I know that is saying a lot, but seriously I am in a place to be making these sorts of statements!
And today, today was the big day. Swearing in. Going to the event, I really thought that it would be a formality. Get dressed up, meet the ambassador, listen to some speeches, repeat the oath and vola, title goes from PCT to PCV – something to check it off the to do list on the way to getting to my site and starting work. I was surprised at how emotional I got! Both Steve and the Ambassador, also both former PCVs, gave really touching speeches about the process of personal growth through service abroad and the impact that one volunteer really does make on a community. whether that be the actual projects that they completed or just the friendships and understanding between people of different cultures. They both made reference that both of these accomplishments are valid and neither is more or less important than the other. And as they are both professional development workers they thanked us for the doing the hard work out in the field and how much they thanked us personally as well as extending from the US Govt. Cheesy I know, but let me tell you, tears flowed. At times I still ponder how important the work i will be doing here...teaching english in one of the 10 poorest countries in the world...but i think that over the course of the next two years my perception of what I am actually do here will change. My job may be teaching, but my work will likely be something related but different...who knows, right?
A funny side note. Laila, my fellow crazy, curly-haired girl, asked if I wanted to go get my hair straightened with her the day before swearing-in. Of course! So about 4pm, we make the 30 minute trek into the little town of Montasoa to find the Coiffure. We ask around, we arrive, we struggle through our lack of necessary vocabulary (come on PC, lets add a style section to the language curriculum!) and finally it is clear what we want done. The woman decides I am first. I sit down in a plastic lawn chair, she gets out the blow dryer – and no electricity. Oh Madagascar! So we ask what time the electricity comes...she doesn't know. But she says just hang out and we'll wait for the electricity. We wait. She brings us her family photo albums, Laila goes out for snacks, and about 10 pictures in I realize these are all pics from funerals. no thanks. After about an hour and 3 runs for snacks (it was rough day...) Laila convinces the woman to let us borrow her dryer and brushes for 3000AR (about $1.75) to do it ourselves at the training center. she agreed. Oh Madagascar!
I digress...tonight we have plans to go over to a volunteer's house here in Tana for a little swearing-in celebration and then we are going out dancing! But not before going to the Hotel du France - from what people tell me they brew their own beer and it is supposedly good. I'm intrigued.
Tomorrow, at 8am we begin Installation. Over the next few days, all 25 of us are scattering about the country accompanied by various PC staff. Lauren and I are going with Robert (aka Chocolate) and Doda out West to Mahajunga first: to shop and get ready to move into our new homes this coming week. eeeee! Then to my site, and then across the bay and down the road to Lauren's site!
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