A Move

This is the fifth time I've moved since the start of my service.  I really pray that this will be the last as I only have six months of my service left fingers crossed.  Because of a passive negotiation between my NGO and an associate organization I was indirectly kicked out of the house I have lived in for nine months.

An electricity bill that included all the other buildings in my compound for five months was delivered to my home...no this didn't push me to move.  Finally the representative of the center e-mailed my APCD to put pressure on my counterpart in the Antsohihy headquarter to put pressure on my counterparts in my town to find appropriate housing for me.  I threw up my hands and asked  my friends at the Catholic Mission house if I could squat in one of their extra rooms.  The answer was an enthusiastic yes.  I've gotten so used to having my own space that I felt that living with other people might intrude on my current lifestyle.  After the tiring move, and the realization that I buy too much frip (used second hand clothing), I received a warm welcome from my new three French roommates.  I find it nerve-racking to speak French, even more than Malagasy.  The French in general are not very forgiving when it comes to mistakes being made in their language. But really its more of my personal psychology that is the problem I've realized.  They've been nothing but helpful and open in trying to help me speak French.

I've had a bit of a change of heart about this language.  I do believe that Malagasy should continue to emphasize it in their education.  But I hope that they can teach it effectively.  Another wonderful thing about living with other foreign volunteers is that we can come home to each other and rant about our daily struggles and not have to constantly worry about offending our host culture.  They run a French library in my community.  The knowledge available in these books is enormous and at the fingertips of people here if only French comprehension was higher.  According to a German friend who has worked in Madagascar for forty years, French has been on the decline since the process of Malagasization by Raziraka's administration.  I suppose I associate how much I love or despise a language based on my encounters from people from that country.

This truly is another immersion experience for me.  Even with a Catholic background and education I feel that I am being surrounded by an extra layer of faith. None of them impose any type of religious doctrine on me though, in fact I feel that they are some of the most accepting and non-judgmental people I have met since my arrival.  They've broken many of the stereotypes I've had of overbearing religious practitioners and "zes Frenchies".

Also, I love living with women.  We share intimate discussions sans les garcons, which remind me of the days of college roommate bonding. Being able to share meals, drink, and activities with other people on a regular basis actually fosters, I've found, a balanced state.  I've spent my service as a "black hole" volunteer as my region has been nicknamed because of the scarce number of volunteers here (I am a whole day trip away from the closest Peace Corps volunteer).  Maybe its good that I end my service with other like-minded foreigners.