Tuesday, May 31, 2011

To all mothers

Yesterday marked the annual celebration of Mother's Day in Madagascar. My village held a large celebration that began at noon and lasted well after sunset. The festivities included my mayor holding an elongated kabary (speach) at the commune as the women sat poised in their brightly colored lambas on the podium. This was followed by the consumption of cases of THB (local beer). This was one day in which the women could take a break from their daily routines and kick back. The women in my village possess so much strength and character despite the numerous hardships they are confronted with. One of my best friends is twenty but already a mother of three, the oldest being 5. She cooks three meals a day, raises income for her family by making peanut brittle, fried bananas, and sews rugs; yet manages to care dilligently and teach her children morals. I admire her so much and am inspired tremendously by her.

Even though I've only been living in my village for two and a half weeks I feel already very tamana (or at home). I feel that mostly everyone has gotten over the novelty of having a vizaha living amongst them and are now taking the time to try to get to know me versus stand and gawk, run away, or giggle uncomfortably at me. There are two little girls in particular Zipe and Donella age 11, who consistently wait outside my home calling my name until I come out. They've become some of my greatest assets here since they patiently teach my Gasy and about Malagasy fomba (culture) in language that is understandable for me. For example when I was passing by an elderly woman's home she attempted to sell me papaya. Latter on Zipe whispers to me that its good that I didn't buy the papaya since the women is a mpamosavy (witch) and has already poisoned a number of people with her papayas. Whether this is true or not I don't know, but Zipe also advised me not to go out at night since that is when the mpamasavy come out and terrorize people. Since then I have been very paranoid going out to my latrine after dark.

Living here also makes me realize how fortunate I am and what I have taken for granted. A few nights ago there was a village movie night in which the local epicerie owner played a foreign film on a 20 inch tv hooked up to speakers. He enclosed the space by putting tarp all around wooden benches. The entrance fee was 200 ariary. The "cinema" was filled with around 200 people of all ages. This is a rare treat for the people in my town since only a couple families actually own televisions. Even though the film was mediocre and in a language they couldn't understand, "Blood Rayne", it provided unique entertainment for the townspeople.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

The end of the first chapter...the beginning of my life as a peace corps volunteer

so how do i even begin this post? i want to apologize in advance for having horrible grammar and punctuation. unfortunately internet is expensive, slow, and in general unreliable here. I am also writing on a french keyboard so it makes things a little difficult for slow learners like me.

but i survives pre-service training and now I am currently at my new site in in the northwest. Its been a crazy journey so far, I feel i don't have enough time or energy to explain in detail exactly what I've been through these past two and a half months but I'll try my best now before the computer breaks down for the upteenth time. I've learned my lesson though, save often save more.

I lived with a Malagasy host family in a small village in the outskirts of the capital Tana. They had a a farm, three children ages 6,9, and 8 months. The father was a fisherman and the mother raised pigs and chickens. The first nine weeks of my life in Madagascar consisted of intensive technical and language training. I learned standard Gasy for the first 5 weeks since I didn't receive my site post and therefore the dialect I would have to speak. Afterwards I had classes in Sakalava a dialect that is spoken here in the north, however since PC is understaffed I was forced to take Sakalava. Sakalava isn't even the dialect of my community. Rather it is Tsihimety, which is supposively similar but in reality isn't.

Homestays were meant to prepare us to live successfully by ourselves at site. After four hours of language class and two hours of technical/ cross-cultural training a day I would come home and help my host mother prepare food over a wood cook stove. I would wash my clothes by hand and fetch water from a well. So far I still do these things at site.

I trained with 38 other incredible individuals, who i can proudly say all made it through the rigorous training too. We swore in at the embassy on May 3. After all of the final goodbyes I left the next morning with two other volunteers, a language trainer, and driver to be installed at my site.

our group was divided up into two groups: environment and small enterprise development. I was placed in the latter group. During training I did a number of hands on group projects. I visited a small embroidery business in my training village, formed an income generating activity, and did a feasibility study of how an internet cafe would function in the town. During the process I got to better understand the business climate in Madagascar. Our training also consisted of cross-cultural sessions. We learned what is fady or taboo, dance, interpersonal relations, etc. All in all it was informal and made me realize what an extroidinarily diverse place Madagascar is. This was reinforced by my technical trip, in which my SED sector visited a number of current volunteers at their sites. We traveled all the way south to Ihosy as well as to Fianar, Antsirabe, Ambositra. Being able to view what other volunteers were currently doing was such an encouragement for me as a trainee. My APCD asks us to really find projects that we are passionate about since being a SED volunteer actually takes a lot of self-motivation since there is no set direction or requirement of us.

I've dealt with fleas, bed bugs, and a rat infestation. I've also gotten an interesting parasite called Parasy Afrikana. The female lodges herself in her hosts foot and lays a sack of eggs which will then emerge after a given amount of time if it is not taken out. Fortunately one of the villagers was able to dig it out of the back of my ankle before this happened.

Now that I am site I feel a mix of emotions, overwhelming but exciting. It averages 90 degrees everyday, its dry, I have two rooms in a cement house (despite the fact that the other homes are made of mud and palm leaves since my NGO required it of my village to build me a house), I walk 30 meters to get water from a well, I take cold bucket baths everyday, I get mocked by children because of my vazaha-ness (foreigner), no electricity, or internet, and goats, pigs, and cows roam around my yard. Despite all of this I love it here. Its peaceful and I feel that I am learning a tremendous amount. Everyday I've spent hours in front of local epiceries and hotelys (restaurants) with a notebook and pen asking people questions in Malagasy and translating with my Peace corps issued dictionary. There are still many cross-cultural misunderstandings that I probably will have to face for the entire duration that I am here, but I feel that with Malagasy people and Tsimihety (a tribe in the NW) if you are open, polite, and respectful they will extend their friendship to you. I get little personal space here but i've set boundaries already that I feel most people in Anjiamangirana understand, especially since I am a foreigner with a different culture and background.

Communication has actually been the toughest part since i've been here, but everyone has shown a great level of patience with me. Since English is not spoken at all in my town i am able to use what little French I have as well as a mix of Malagasy to get my point accross. French has also been a valuable tool to learn Malagasy for me.