The End

I’m leaving Madagascar today. After two years on the Big Red Island, having only left to visit Egypt, I’m heading to the West—I’ll be in South Africa for ten days and then I’m back in Seattle, and starting the job search in DC.

(So if you have job leads or ideas of work in the DC area, please do let me know…:)

Bye Madland—it’s been interesting. Hello South Africa…

Malaria Month--BAMM!

If you follow multiple volunteer blogs, you may be experiencing a bit of deja vu this month--it’s BAMM! (Blog About Malaria Month). During April, Peace Corps Volunteers all over Africa are blogging and tweeting about their experiences with malaria during their service. Admittedly I'm on my way out, but that doesn't prevent me from sharing a little info as I leave.

Malaria is a blood-borne parasite that hitches a ride on the bite of a certain type of nocturnal mosquito. When it gets into your bloodstream, the parasites multiply in red blood cells and then burst out of them, which causes initial sign of illness like fevers, aches, and chills.

When I asked my community about major illness during my initial site surveys, malaria was always at the top of the list as a reason why people ended up in the hospital. This is especially dangerous in my area since we have a high rate of falciparum malaria, a.k.a. nasty deadly cerebral malaria.

A combination of prevention (like mosquito nets) and early treatment sharply reduces the incidence of malaria.

Malaria was eradicated in the U.S. in 1951. No kidding. It was one of the CDC's first major initiatives. With organization and education, complete eradication is a possibility.

Malaria is the number one killer in Africa. Over 90% of deaths from malaria occur in Sub-Saharan Africa. 60% of deaths are children under 5.

In Madagascar, malaria is the second leading cause of hospital mortality and the third leading cause of morbidity for children under five.

April 25th is World Malaria Day.

Want more info? Check out the official Stomp Out Malaria webpage, and get on Facebook and “like” the Stomp Out Malaria page.

Stealing Posts, Part 2

In which I continue to borrow other volunteers' hard and hilarious blog work...

Leslie, a volunteer in my region of SAVA, just wrote a great post called "The Weirdness of being in Peace Corps". " Food. Never has it been so precious to me, and I am thinking it never will be again. " Ohhh, so true.

Katie writes wonderfully thoughtful and interesting stuff on her blog so it was hard to choose one, but "Tany Andalampandrosoana: Development in Madagascar" deals with a lot of the difficult issues we have to deal with and think about as we do aid work. Actually, I'll link to the great video she did of her site as well, since I haven't been able to upload videos. Like me, she's dealt with staring children, hauling water, overstuffed taxi brousses, and world map mishaps (Eastern Europe is way outdated on my mural as well, since the source material was so old, and I accidentally turned the Caspian Sea into a large unnamed country. Oops).

Kristen uploaded a video of something that happened to me and my mom as well: a tire falling off the brousse we were on.

If you find yourself craving Mad news after I leave the country (not long now!), never fear: there are lots of Mad volunteers blogging. Peace Corps Journals has a list.

Stealing Posts, Part 1

Sometimes, I just can't say it better myself. This post and the next one are going to be stolen: reposted writings from other Peace Corps volunteers here in Madagascar.

This was written my buddy Vanessa:

-------------------

Here is a list of some of the things you can expect out of me after my return from Madagascar.

I may prefer sitting on the floor to sitting in chairs, especially during meal times.

I may be unable to eat with a fork. Certain foods- actually, most- may require the use of a spoon.

I will take extremely long, hot showers, because indoor plumbing is the greatest invention in the universe.

I may stumble over seemingly easy English words or expressions, which might leave you feeling like you're playing a board game. For example: "What's it called... when you wanna sweep the floor... you need to use a... it's got a long handle..." A broom? Yes.

I may not be able to enter your house without taking my shoes off.

I will probably- with or without my knowledge- use Malagasy words as a regular part of my speech. It doesn't mean you're not mahay, it just means some Gasy words stick and have no good English translation.

I may want to dedicate long periods of the day to going on solitary walks or laying on the floor. Don't be alarmed- I don't have a social disorder- I just spent two years living alone in a shack and that's what I've been doing for most of it.

If I talk about being Gasy, or Gasy foods, I mean one s, not two.

Depending on when you see me, I may look like a homeless person. My clothes have been scrubbed by hand, beaten against rocks and dried in the sun for two years, and they're not in very good condition. If you would like to donate your old clothes to me, or buy me new ones, I promise I won't object.

I may use baffling acronyms such as PST, IST, MSC, COS, ET etc. This is a result of working for the US government.

I will have no idea what you're talking about if you bring up news, events, pop culture, TV shows, commercials or trends that occured after February 28, 2010. Please don't be alarmed. It's scary to me too.

I may walk very, very slowly.

I may be overwhelmed and/or frightened by large groups of white people.

I will probably irritate you by greeting you with a statement of the obvious. For example, it's early morning, you're making coffee in the kitchen. Instead of "Good morning!" I might say, "Making coffee?" Or perhaps you're washing dishes... "Washing dishes?" Reading the paper? Drinking tea? It's annoying. I apologize ahead of time.

If you have good bread, olives, wine, cheese and/or apples, you may serve them to me. You do not need to ask if I want them, but you certainly may. The answer will be yes.

I will not want to eat white rice.

I may not have a good answer if you ask, "How was Madagascar?" How would you respond to, "How were the last two years of your life?"

Updated Library Pics

What Kids Do When I Take Their Picture

Market Ladies and Kids

You Know You’re (Still) A PCV in Madagascar When…

Even after two years, the neighbor kid still sometimes runs screaming at the sight of you.

You classify all your storage containers as either rat-proof or not rat-proof.

A Malagasy person’s evaluation of your Malagasy language ability can range from fluent, completely incompetent, and back to fluent again, all in the same conversation.

When someone gives you a time for something, there is one thing you are certain of: it will not happen at that time. Maybe two hours early, maybe four hours late, maybe never. This includes flights.

Depending on the time of year, it takes 35-110 hours to get to the capital from your site. Google Maps says it takes 13 hours.

Would-be suitors scream offers at your back, but turn and run if you walk towards them.

Telling a Gasy man “I’m married” is not considered an acceptable excuse for not getting involved with him. Telling him “You’re ugly and you have no teeth” is accepted.

You no longer have any standards for entertainment.

80 degrees is a cold snap. (SAVA!)

Riding in a taxi brousse with a functioning speedometer is so noteworthy that you text another volunteer about it.

You can sharpen a machete with a rock and use it for anything.

You listened to the BBC list Golden Globe winners and didn’t recognize a single movie.

After two years, you’re surprised you still have some functioning electronics.

People only want to know the time when you’re wearing a watch.

Lost in Translation

Random Dude: Bonjour, Madame—ou bien mademoiselle?

Me: Tsy francaise zah fa americaine. (I’m not French, I’m American.)

Random Dude: Ah! Vous etes americaine, c’est tres bien…

Me: Efa niteny zah, tsy francaise, tsy azoko teny francais. Mahay teny Gasy zah. (I just said, I’m not French, I don’t speak French. I speak Malagasy.) [This isn’t true, my French is decent, but who respects the French here…]

Random Dude: Fa manino? (Why?)

Me: Voluntaire Peace Corps zah ndreky miasa ambanivolo zeny mila mianatra teny Gasy satria tsisy olo maro mahay teny anglisy. (I’m a Peace Corps volunteer and I work in the coutryside, so I need to know Malagasy because not many people know English.)

Random Dude: [It’s all Malagasy from here on…] Ah, Peace Corps, so you are American!

Me: Yes.

Random Dude: Me, I do not speak American, it is too hard, I learn English.

Me: Americans speak English, too.

Random Dude: So you are English from Britain!

Me: No, but we speak the same language.

Random Dude: But if you speak English you must be from England.

Me: The English colonized America so that is why we speak English too.

Random Dude: They colonized you, so you ARE British.

Me: The French colonized Madagascar. Are you French?

Random Dude: No, no no, I am Malagasy.

Me: It is the same with America. We are no longer British but we still speak the same language.

Random Dude: You know what is good about the Malagasy people? We all speak the same language. Not like all you foreigners. You British, French, Americans, Italians, Australians, you can’t understand anything the other is saying.

Me: It’s very nice that you all speak the same language. But many people do speak the same language, like the British and Americans and Australians, but we speak with different accents so it sounds different. Like dialects of Malagasy. It’s like the Tsimihety dialect and the Antaimoro dialect.

Random Dude: Oh, I don’t understand Antaimoro people. They talk weird. But you are American, yes, so you are from Brazil.

Me: No, I’m from the United States.

Random Dude: But Brazil is in America.

Me: Brazil is in South America. The United States is in North America, near Canada.

Random Dude: Canada! They speak French there. Also in Montreal. Is Montreal also near Canada?

Me: Montreal is a city in Canada.

Random Dude: No, it’s a country.

Me: It’s a city like Tana is a city. I’ve visited, it’s very beautiful.

Random Dude: I have an uncle whose wife’s cousin is studying there. She says it is always cold.

Me: Much much colder than Madagascar, yes.

Random Dude: Do you not have sun in America?

Taxi Brousse

The pics from here on out (including the last post) are from other volunteers because my

camera is dead dead dead. But this is the inside of a taxi brousse as it's filling up, complete with fabulous and goofy PCVs in the foreground!

Pictures--Milking Cows and Gathering Mangoes

Food Again

I was about to make rice and beans the other days when I realized that I was out of beans. This sparked off some decidedly grumpy rummaging through my shelves for what food I did have, and some moody contemplation about how easy it is to keep a variety of food in the United States with fridges and stores that regularly sell food—as opposed to the small family owned stores here that sell dry goods, supplemented by whatever happens to be sold on the road that day. And the thing is, I have no reason to complain—I had (outside of rice and live animals) considerably more food on hand than any of my neighbors and could have made a number of meals out of it.

There’s always a huge contrast between ‘need’ and ‘want’, particularly when you’re living around people who show up how little you really need. Malagasy food culture in my rural area is almost entirely subsistence agriculture—people work with their rice from seed to field to cooking pot, and supplement vast quantities of rice with smaller side dishes of whatever is nearby and in season—boiled leaves, fruit, egg, or milk for example, but rarely more than one side dish at a meal. It certainly would gain points from any local foods movement adherents (though not environmentalists, as rice fields are cleared from forest areas and frequently sprayed with strong pesticides, when the farmer can afford it).

Anyway, I made a list of all the food that I had in my house of few days ago, out of curiosity:

Food bought locally:

1 cup raw peanuts

Salt, sugar

1 egg

2 bananas

2 cups rice

Tomato paste

1 onion

Bleach

Food bought in the city:

Peanut butter

Oil

Honey

¼ kilo flour, full of weevils

Cocoa powder

Ketchup

1 bag couscous

Powdered milk

1 head garlic

½ bag raisins, full of weevils

From U.S. care packages or other volunteers:

Pineapple jam (homemade by another volunteer)

Tea

Parmesean cheese

Spices

Emergen-C, Crystal Light

2 granola bars

The weevilly stuff will be consumed after sifting and yes, bleach is a food—I filter and bleach all the water I drink. It tastes like pool water, hence the Crystal Light.

From an American perspective, this is probably the amount of food you’d bring on a weekend camping trip. From a rural Malagasy perspective, it’s a boggling variety of snack food (not enough rice to make a real meal, of course). So the question I always ask myself is—do I feel grateful for the food I have, or wish for food I don’t? I predictably try to do the former and frequently end up doing the latter—I’m grateful that I have clean pool water to drink but man! Sometimes I wish it were orange juice.

And by the way—I made banana pancakes that night, topped with honey. No complaints there.

Holidays

The number of unpleasant drunks and earsplitting “discos” in my town spikes during holiday parties, so for Christmas and New Year’s I opted to briefly flee town for safety in numbers with other volunteers. Christmas was quiet and pleasant—Secret Santa, Love Actually, and a nice Christmas seafood dinner at a hotel. Pretty American, minus the heat (It was NINETY at EIGHT in the morning the other day, and that’s not unusual).

New Year’s, though, ended up being a mixture of Gasy and American, and a lot of fun as well. One of the volunteers in my region just left this week for home, and some of us spent New Year’s at her site with her wonderful (and wonderfully protective) host family to say (a very temporary) goodbye.

Malagasies generally stay up until midnight the night of the first, not the thirty-first, but they were willing to humor us and do both. It’s a chore to stay up late when there’s no electricity, but happily the matriarch of the family brought over a pick-me-up drink—equal parts coffee and condensed milk. We were placidly playing Hearts and having our hair braided when, shortly before midnight, we realized we had to do SOMETHING to mark the New Year. We explained the tradition of the midnight ball drop our very confused hosts, who humored us by finding a slightly deflated soccer ball. (One volunteer suggested dropping a chicken off the roof and was vetoed, though I regret to say not entirely on humanitarian grounds—we thought the roof would cave in.)

So at midnight we stood in the yard in total darkness, counted down from ten, and threw the soccer ball up in the air. One of the volunteers, who had previously served in Namibia, was goaded into ululating for us, which briefly made the Malagasies think there was a witch in the vicinity. Then, confusing our hosts further after this odd ritual, we went to bed. Like I said, it’s hard to stay awake when there’s no electricity.

The next day, we got up early to see the village patriarch shoot off his gun. I’m not sure how this tradition got started, but he shot off some blanks to announce the New Year. Then, after some rice cake and more condensed milk coffee, we went to milk cows. I think the cow owner may have just been allowing us to come along for entertainment purposes, but he was very nice about it. These are not, naturally, American dairy cows—these are hardscrabble grass fed Gasy cows with very large horns. To milk them, the farmer went to their night pen the evening before we milked to close the calves off in a separate area. In the morning, he let the calves into the main cow pen one at a time. Once the calf found its mother, he looped a rope around the mom’s hind legs, pulled the calf off from feeding, and milked into a gourd that had a hole cut into it. Once this was full, he poured it into a bucket on the other side of the fence. We all tried our hand at milking, with some minor success.

Then it was time to cook, and everyone in the extended family brought dishes to a big makeshift tent where the elders made speeches to the parting volunteer.

The day after New Year’s, we went out to the family forest before we left—a lightly cultivated area with mango trees, cassava, sugarcane, pineapple, and coconuts, which we took turns finding and eating. The kids went hunting for cicadas (also to eat, though after cooking) and chased people around with the bugs. All in all, a nice New Year’s with good people.