I wrote this about month ago with no
intention of blogging it. For whatever reason I just sat down and started
writing, which is odd considering I have never written in or kept a journal in
my life. Reading it now, though, it seems like something you all will
appreciate.
Quick update on the library project: After
several weeks of trying to get the money that several Malagasy donors had
promised months ago, they have finally given me (at least part of) their
contribution. Building is going to start on the 11th of November.
Again, thank you so much to all of you who helped make this possible. I will
try to keep you all updated as best as I can through the interwebs.
***************
I think after a year and a bit I can
finally say, “Yes, I am.” I’m not really sure what brought this particular
thought process because I haven’t had an especially awesome day, but what the
hell.
No two Peace Corps volunteer experiences
are the same. Obviously, this would be true of a volunteer in Fiji and a
volunteer in Ethiopia, but I am talking about volunteers within Madagascar,
too. My Peace Corps experience has been worlds apart from even that of my two
site mates; the bottom line is I got extremely lucky. From what I have heard of
the volunteer placement process (not for country, but for town/village within a
country) it doesn’t seem that many aspects of one’s professional background are
matched with site needs. Instead, it’s more of a mix and match with no great
systematic approach, aside from possible medical requirements. I remember I was
a bit confused when I wasn’t matched to my first choice, a town in northern
Madagascar that had an English radio program started by a previous volunteer. I
think anyone who knows me would agree that this would have seemed like a
perfect match. But after the two-week process of reviewing and researching all
the different sites available to the group of volunteers I came to country with
and trying to conceal those choices from your new friends (a very awkward time)
so as to not give too much away, I genuinely became fed up. The day before our
site announcements we had an interview with Peace Corps staff members and I
told them I didn’t really care anymore. I didn’t say it with malice or
frustration in my voice (even though I really was fed up). I just said, ‘you have my choices, whatever you decide
I am fine with.’ From the beginning of the application process up until that
point, we are given no say in anything that happens to us, so for us to have a
choice in where we live for two years in a tropical island, you can imagine the
tension. Turns out, I was very convincing in that interview because I was
placed in one of the sites no one asked for. When you come from the land of
running water, electricity and porcelain toilets it is pretty easy to gravitate
towards those things when you are given the option. After I found out I was
going to Ampasimanjeva I looked back at my research of the site and saw the
words “Fuck No” on the top. To this day, I have no idea why I wrote that. It’s
almost embarrassing that I made such a judgment off a piece of paper.
Fast forward to today. I live in a house
made out of the equivalent of tree bark. When it rains, it sounds like
Armageddon (I’m actually hoping for a cyclone this year just to see if this
baby can take it). I fetch (often nasty) water from a well about a football
field away and poop in a hole about 200 yards away (a distance of which has
definitely presented problems so far). I live in a town small enough where
there are no restaurants for a quick meal. So even after a long, crappy day I
still have to cook (an activity I hate) or I just don’t eat. Usually, I go with
the latter. I know this sounds like complaining. I can tell you we volunteers
do plenty of complaining about our respective situations (usually for
therapeutic reasons), but I assure you this is the exact opposite.
When I first arrived here in Ampasimanjeva,
people used to ask me, “Tamana ve anao?” (Are you settled? Do you like it
here?). Obviously, I said yes because no one in American culture would ever
say, “Hell no, this sucks” or “What the hell did I just get myself into”
especially if you are expected to live in this place for another 2 years. So, I
went with, “Oh, yeah. This is awesome. I’m completely settled in.” I was very
convincing indeed. To be honest, I don’t think I would have known how to say in
Malagasy my reasons for not being tamana yet.
I have come to realize that even though
these people and this culture can frustrate the hell out of me, it is exactly
what I was looking for. Even though it can get incredibly lonely when you have
no electricity, nothing to do, and are staring at four walls infested with
ants, rats and flying roaches. This is home and I wouldn’t have it any other
way. I think I can finally say, “I am tamana.”
We just finished our one-year conference
and we had a session for those possibly interested in extending their service.
It got loud in the room and it became very clear that about 90% of the
volunteers completely tuned out. I think myself and maybe two other people were
genuinely interested (don’t panic yet, mom. I’m just considering it). As I
mentioned, there are days where I can’t wait to get out: the general apathy and
lethargy of a lot of the Malagasy people can be deflating, disengaging and
exhausting. Even still, these people find pleasure in their own livelihood, no
matter how awful it may appear to the outside world. Who are we (the first
world) to judge their way of life if it doesn’t seem to bother them? We use
phrases like “the third world” and make judgments based on the 30 seconds CNN
devotes to some small village in Africa once per month. I think what I am
trying to say is that I finally understand what Peace Corps meant when they
said volunteers often get more out of the experience than they give. Malagasy
people often jokingly ask me if I can take them back to the states with me when
I leave. These people are very small so they would probably fit in most checked
bags. Just kidding. The truth is that while they are curious to hear my answer,
I don’t think these people really have any desire to live in a culture where
work and money come before everything (not to mention a life without rice three
times per day. God forbid). I have met people, both Malagasy and ex-pats, who
have the money to go somewhere else in this world, but choose Madagascar. Why?
American culture would consider such a mentality completely nuts, as did many
volunteers’ families when they left for the Peace Corps (I got lucky and had
nothing but support). Granted, a lot of these people (but not all of them) who
choose Madagascar have the financial means to live lavishly in a country like
this.
Other volunteers tell me about their
friends back home who are working jobs they hate, but what else can they do?
Quit and move back in with their parents? No, society tells them that is
failure even if you have the most accepting, helpful parents in the world. Even
volunteers who are heading home and going to live with their parents until they
can find work seem to feel like they have to justify their reasoning for doing
so. I don’t know what the answer is for people stuck in miserable jobs, but if
it happens to me, I would probably go crazy, especially after doing something
like this. The more I think about it the more life in the states (and the first
world in general) seems like a race toward retirement. Don’t get me wrong, I
know there are people who love their jobs and never want to retire, I’m just
talking about people my age who are stuck in a rut with no way out.
Just before I started writing this I had a
conversation with my friend outside about the library and what he thinks it
will mean for this town. Such a conversation would never happen at 2:30 on a
Monday afternoon. No way! Those are precious work hours and time is money. I am
almost 26 years old. I will not have much money when I return to the states and
I couldn’t be happier. A lot of times you’ll hear volunteers say something
like, “yeah, this job is great, but I have to get back and start a real life.”
I understand the viewpoint – we are living here on the government’s dime with
no real structure to our work schedule. If you are not a teacher, your own
self-motivation is literally the only schedule you hold yourself to.
Thankfully, Peace Corps is loaded with self-motivated people. But to me this
doesn’t feel like a transition to a real life. I don’t think it is something
that I just needed to get out of my system.
Okay, you’re all probably thinking, “Holy
crap, he’s finally lost it.” But I swear I haven’t (although I guess that’s
what anyone would say right before they are checked into the nut house). I am
just reflecting on my own experiences here and what it may mean for my future.
When I first got here, I have questioned
whether or not I should have stayed in Detroit and done humanitarian work
there. We all know that city needs all the help it can get. That is my plan for
when I return – to live near family and play some role in the attempt to
restore Detroit. But the longer I live in a place where phrases like “time is money”
or “Eat. Work. Sleep” are just that, idioms, and not actually ways of life, the
more tempted I am to stay. Is it possible to live a life in the U.S. without
regard for money? Hope so. Will I be here for a third year? I don’t know. All I
can say is it’s not out of the question.
I just got back
from a trip to Mauritius with my parents for 6 days. It was unbelievable. I met
some of my dad’s family that I had either never met before or couldn’t remember
because I was too young at the time. It was so great that I am hoping to go
back with some of my Peace Corps friends over Easter vacation. Despite the
beauty of my 6-day getaway, coming back to my small village in Madagascar
definitely messed with my mind. I wonder…if I go back to Detroit right away will
I forget how great of a time I had here? Will I want to come back at some
point? Will I base my decision on the cost of a plane ticket? I really hope
not.
I wrote that a few weeks ago and I
guarantee my opinion on all of this has changed at least 2 or 3 times with the
ebbs and flows of my work. This is a love-hate relationship and I think this
post shows the side of me when I am really loving my job.
