The Way It All Ended

Returning to site was a bittersweet morsel of wonder.

I arrived back to Marovoay just in time for the second exam session of the year. I delved into preparing a kick-ass review for my students and writing a test, that although challenging, was well within their abilities and showed mastery of what I had focused them on: comparatives and superlatives, the simple past tense, reading and comprehending simple texts, and writing descriptions using the verbs to be and to have. I knew this wasn't the most exciting way to spend what I knew, in the back of my mind, would be a precious few remaining weeks at site. But, it kept my mind occupied on a task: prepare my students for an exam, proctor exams, grade my exams, and get my "notes" into the office before my countdown clock runs out! I am proud to say that my students achieved an average of 76% on their exams, which in a system where 50% is passing, that is AWESOME! I couldn't be more proud of the way my students performed on the exam! (let's not consider the handful of students that got less than 10/40 on my exam...it just ruins it for me!)

Since I wasn't preparing and reworking lessons and exercises for the three weeks I was back at site, I was able to spend some precious time with the people I love in Marovoay. I spent almost every morning with my dear friend Nazira, sitting with her in her shop, sipping coffee or tea and nibbling on the wonderful Indian treats she made, and enjoying what a wonderful, intelligent, strong woman she is. She and I had made many plans...and she and her husband were the only people who really understood the gravity of the situation in Tana, and why I might not be in Madagascar for much longer - but we chose to ignore that piece. I passed by Madame Iarlalaina's humble house almost daily to check in with her and her newborn baby, Zezedidiah, since she was no longer working down at the market. I sat with Holy, the director's daughter - home from college in Tamatave - while she sold homemade breads and snacks, and laughed for hours in her shady spot. I drew in the sand and played the games of the neighborhood kids whenever I was near. I visited Tiana and her family often to dance and sing to the Westlife videos they loved and grab just a few more hugs from her precious children. And for my two best friends at site, Silvia age 2 and a 1/2, and Angela age 4, I couldn't get enough time with them. They were my laundry buddies, my sweeping buddies, my dancing buddies and of course my snack-time buddies. I miss those precious little faces, personalities and hugs more than words can convey.

But in spite of these gems of moments I was able to experience in my last three weeks, my cell phone seemed to dictate my life. Everyday about 5pm, I would get a text message from the PC office and the news was seldom good; often that would be followed by a phone call from Lucy with some additional bad news specific to our region. It all seemed hopeless for me and my Madagascar. Protests continued in Tana daily and tear gas was now a normal participant, and Mahajunga had recently sucummed to the activities as well. Protesters in Mahajunga had gathered near the taxi brousse station one day and attacked incoming public transit. All brousses from my town stopped transit for a day or so, and then resumed dropping passengers on the outskirts of town to find city buses or taxis into the city center. I was low on funds and needed to get to Mahajunga soon, but PC was not pleased with the situation. Lucy and I had planned a tentative trip - arrive Thursday night, do our business Friday and get out that evening or early Saturday before protests started.

Wednesday morning I had written my first actual lesson since returning from consolidation - it was about local jobs using relative clauses as the grammar point. It was evening and I was just returning home from my English Club at the Lycee...my friend Mampihava was preparing carp for dinner and I sat in her yard and chatted with her and my fave Lycee student Elzira (who I just called El). His phone would not stop ringing! And I loved to tease him about girls since he was just such a cutie! Then my phone beeped - text message:

“Decision made to suspend PC Madagascar. Very sad. Process of leaving will be lengthy. Prepare tonight for consolidation and onward as flights are confirmed. STAY IN SITE. For now we must be able to find you.”

I read it. I read it again. and again. and again. and then, I threw my phone across the yard in a most mature fashion. El dutifully went to retrieve it and asked what was wrong. "Handeha hody za..."(I'm going home...); he an Mampihava looked at me hard, it was dark out, I should be on my way home soon. No, I clarified. I am going home to "Etazonia" (the United States). I spoke with Lucy on the phone, she was so calm, whereas I ranted and raved.

When I stepped foot in my home in Madagascar, I broke down, realizing that I would have to tell Bonne, my counterpart. With tears in my eyes I walked out of my gate and up to their porch. The family was at the table, getting ready for a meal of rice with green beans and beef. Madam Soa rushed me to a chair, and everyone gathered around to find out why I was crying. They were in total disbelief, just like myself. After the initial news of evacuation went out, it was followed up with an instruction to leave quietly, to ensure volunteer safety as we were all traveling independently by public transport. I wouldn't be able to tell my students or many people I was leaving; Bonne understood. But the director's son, Cami, who was one of my students was present, and I doubted his ability to keep the secret. But he did.

As I prepared frantically to leave my house in just under 36 hours, Cami sent his sister and my good friend, Holy, over without telling her why, just that I was upset. She and I cried together while I divided my stuff into what I wanted to take and what I could leave, and she stayed until my bag to take was zipped and closed at about 12am. I gladly sent her away with clothes, shoes, jewelry and other womanly things that are treasures in Madagascar. The next day, the whole CEG family, had lunch together and we all shared that none of us slept, worried and pensive about what was happening.

Wednesday night, I had asked Lucy on the phone, "how am I supposed to teach class tomorrow and not say goodbye to my students?" She told me, "give them a great lesson." I chucked my lesson about local jobs and relative clauses aside, and filled my hour class with some tongue twisters (which I made them copy down, in an effort to make them believe that it was important) and taught them a silly song that involved some even sillier motions. And I took pictures of them...precious. I stood at the door on their way out and gave them all high fives in a effort to convey to them how much I loved each and everyone of them.

The next day, I heard the song I taught being sung as I walked through the CEG, one last time...it should have elated me, but rather it just made me bitter that this whole experience was ending without closure and a proper goodbye. To complicate feelings further, Bonne had called Xavier, the Edu Program Director for the PC in Mada. The PC was stringent on this secrecy issue and had told Bonne that it was just consolidation and that if all was calm through the weekend, I would be back at site. When Bonne reported this to me it just messed with my head and emotions. I called Lucy frantic, "are we leaving or not!? I can't live my life and pack and say goodbye on a 'maybe' basis!" She assured me, we ARE leaving. And that was my worst part of leaving - Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, I said my goodbyes to the people I couldn't leave without closure (including my JICA site mate Kinue, who is still working and helping educate the children of Marovoay!!!!! Bless her!) I had to make these special trips to my close friends to say goodbye, it was the right thing to do, and I would have felt awful leaving things undone; these people were my family in Marovoay and they had shared so much of themselves with me, a stranger!But when the Director, Jean Yves, loaded my stuff into his rickety car and drove me to Nazira's home for one last visit and meal with her, Bonne's family wouldn't give me a real goodbye. They internalized what Xavier had said, and I regret so much that my goodbye was rushed over the phone to him from Tana before I left the country for good.

Friday Evening, March 13th, Lucy and I met at Hotel Kanto in Mahajunga. My cab driver, Buron, was a friend of a past volunteer, and he joyfully drove me to the hotel to unload my stuff and to pick up Lucy who was waiting for me, past the bank to grab some much needed cash, and then to Marco's for one last delicious "Takis" pizza in Mahajunga. We gave him a generous fair for his trouble, our money no longer meant so much to us...I slept for the first night since Wednesday, and we woke up to a cool morning in Mahajunga...the view of the bay from our room was extra beautiful because I knew it was my last. Buron had agreed to pick us up at 6:30am, vazaha time, so Lucy and I stole away for one last Mokary (Sakalava sweet, rice bread made only in the Northwest) and coffee for breakfast; and I got to sit next to a beautiful little Malagasy child and chat for one last time.

We made the 12 hour journey from Mahajunga to Antananarivo one last time, and arrived to a BBQ at the house of our PC Country Director. Talk about culture shock! I ate my meal and tried to enjoy the gathering of PC and Embassy folk which was extraordinarily fun, but really would have preferred my Friday staple of popcorn, seasonal fruit and a movie in my quiet, simple and sturdy house.

I spent the next few days being shuttled to and fro, as I was scheduled to depart Mada in the last group of volunteers. Highlights included one last Montasoa breakfast, a muddy walk into town, a few last "vazaha" calls from locals, and an impromptu goodbye Serenade from Montasoa staff and PC drivers one night. It brought a number of us to tears as we realized that we were the last volunteers in country, and this was really the end for us.

On March 16th, a group of us volunteers ventured not far from the Peace Corps Meva, where we stay in Tana, for dinner. While we dined on some sub-par pizza, the opposition, with the military stormed, the Palace - not 20 minutes from where we were. Peace Corps called to check on us, we were safe, if not shaken, but truly somber. By the time we returned home to the Meva, the BBC had posted pictures and video of the events. It was real. The coup d'etat had occurred.

Our flight was scheduled to leave at about 2pm which meant we would normally leave for the airport at 11:30am. At 9am, the PC drivers showed up and asked us not to venture out too far. There was word that the coup d'etat was planned as a 48 hour offensive, and PC didn't want to take chances with our safety or ability to get out. As soon as there was a report that the plane had left South Africa we were loading up and leaving immediately; if it didn't leave we would be chartering a plane to evacuate us. (talk about privilege!)At about 10am we were loaded and headed out to Ivato, I grabbed the front seat next to Doda, my fave PC diver, for one last ride with him. I loaded my phone with some extra credit, and made some final good-bye calls.

And that was how it all ended for me in Madagascar.