Tuesday, July 19, 2011

karakory baba? a term of endearment

I've learned to yell....no scream. In Tsimihety land people have no reservations at yelling their innermost angsts at each other over long distances, sometimes whole rice fields. It was a shock at first, coming from the highlands where I felt people spoke in hushed voices. I found I actually really enjoy this. I especially like yelling the greeting "karakory oah baba?" to my male friends. This means, "what's up dude?" And is used somewhat as a term of endearment, since baba is a term of respect you use for older males (and mama for women). I've learned not to be overly nice or too polite, in terms of Western standards (I try to mirror how my village interacts with each other). When I was reserved and polite (in my view of course), it really separated me from others and made them think I was miavona or snobby. There was an "air" about me and people acted differently around me, thus was a minus for my integration. Of course there are social etiquettes that you use with people of authority, like for example the mayor or gendarme. Another thing I don't feel is pity for people here, despite the fact that most of the people in my village have much less than I do in terms of material possessions. Pity is condescending and I feel is objectifying; it suggests that I am on a different plane than the people in my community. Instead I understand that due to many factors (whether relating, to geography, history, colonization, etc.) people struggle on a day to day basis to feed their families here. They are no better or worse than I am, but rather our lives were shaped by outside circumstances. Its really humbling to see my neighbor give me mustard leaves that she needed to hike 6 kilometers for uphill, barefoot to obtain when she can't even afford to buy sponges to wash her dishes.

Monday, July 18, 2011

my cultural faux pas... i'm a tromba from Etats-unis

Despite having had two months of cross-cultural training, possesing abundant reading material, and my consistent attempt at being culturally sensitive I still manage to blunder in all sorts of ways. For example, many of the villagers still practice what is called tromba. A tromba is a mystical ceremony, which employs the use of a witch doctor or healer to cast out evil spirits that possess and cause maladies in individuals. Its victims often experience quivers and speak in different voices. I was having my daily breakfast of coffee with fried bananas when I spotted a family with, what I considered strange white markings painted all over their faces. I ran up to the children and even was "audacious" enough to touch the baby's face. The villagers gasped and whispered among themselves while giving me skeptical glances. I realized later after talking to my friend that I had committed a terrible cultural taboo. I needed to go up to everyone who witnessed my silly actions and explain to them that I am still learning about Malagasy culture and was simply curious, not knowing that I had offended many people. I went to a funeral a week ago for a women who died during childbirth, leaving eight children (many still being very young) behind. Not knowing what the proper dress for this was (which is traditional brightly colored cloth that is sewed in a tube shape called salova) I showed up in black pants and a t-shirt. People made remarks but fortunately noone seemed offended and derived my ignorance of dress code to me being a vizaha. Malagasy mysticism and funeral rites are just some of the more overt forms of culture which are easily identified. There are still the more subconcious and "sneaky" manifestations of culture that lie beneath the iceberg such as the concept of face saving and time that take longer to learn. People often ask me for a voandalana (or a gift from the road) when I come back from a trip. The point of this as pointed out by my "cultural broker" is to maintain social relationships. So instead of getting annoyed I try to keep in mind these cultural nuances.