A Malagasy Thanksgiving

One of the saddest, yet most enjoyable parts of living in Madagascar is finding new ways to celebrate American holidays. Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that is obviously not celebrated in Madagascar. It is depressing in that we are missing out on all the family time that you can never get back, but pretty exciting in that we have to find a new way to celebrate this holiday every year. Take the concept of an oven for example – a vital (dare I say a critically essential) item when it comes to Thanksgiving tradition. It’s rather comical when you consider the historical context of the celebration cause you know those pilgrims weren’t cooking with ovens. Anyway, every year the Peace Corps volunteers of the south east of Madagascar find a way to celebrate this fine holiday so I thought it might be cool to show some pictures of how we did it this year.

We got the directions on how to do this from google and my magnificent chef of a cousin, Keenan. We dug a pit about three feet deep in my backyard and placed tons of searing hot coals inside. We put in about a foot of coals, then the bird, then more coals and sand to create our own kind of oven. The bird cooked for about 5 hours and then we dug him out and it turned out incredibly well. Only a small part of the turkey wasn't fully cooked. It was one of the better turkeys I've ever had, though I guess I'm a bit biased. Photo cred to Briana. There may be a picture or two you won't want to look at.

Don getting more than just a thanksgiving meal from Drumstick

 

Briana, Don and I with Drumstick.

Not for the squeamish. Drumstick was the third bird I've murdered in country and I promise I don't enjoy it. I'm no expert but I think it was as humane and quick as you can get when cutting an animals throat. 

Plucking

Plucking complete

We stuck clothes hangers through drumstick so that when we dropped him into the charcoal pit we would be able to pull him out easier. Here we are diligently wrapping him in foil.

Almost done.

This was just the beginning but it turned into an inferno in that corner

Drumstick covered in tin foil and then wrapped in hemp

Pushing the coals in on top of Drumstick.

So hot

Covering the pit with coals and sand. You can see the hanger from Drumstick in the bottom right

Sud Est

Briana and the rest of the gang surprised me with a birthday cake

My second family

FEAST! Thanks to Don's family and my family for sending us some Thanksgiving care packages

Sedric. This kid is 12 and is incredibly good at English. He came over the next morning and I gave him some leftovers

In other news, life in Manakara is great. I have completed three teacher trainings so far in this first trimester with several more in the works for the next trimester. I have an English course for the high school seniors of Manakara as well as an English conversation club with a select few who can speak a little bit better than most. We discuss a bunch of different issues (ie. Gender roles in Madagascar vs. USA, how to get Madagascar out of poverty, etc) and I really enjoy hearing their [often strange] opinions on these topics.

Let me just detail one strange conversation. Following the death of that teenager in the ocean in Manakara tons of people in the city knew that several PCVs and myself were responsible for bringing him out: they were asking us about it and thanking us on the streets. These students also had heard about it, which led us to a conversation about swimming in the ocean here in Madagascar. As I mentioned in that post, your average Malagasy person is completely petrified of the ocean and it doesn’t help that Manakara’s beach is one of the rougher ones I have ever seen. But the Antemoro people (the tribe that comprises most of Manakara and a lot of the rural areas north and south of the city) take this fear to a whole new level. They believe, among many other things, that eating pork is wrong because pigs are filthy and no one should be eating anything that rolls around in mud 24/7. I guess when you think about it, they have a good point but it just tastes so good. Some Antemoro agree with me and therefore there are a few who sacrifice their cultural pride for this delectable dish. Now, according to the Antemoro tribe, those people who choose to eat pork and then happen to go swimming in the ocean in the following days are guaranteed one fate: death. So, when we discussed the death of this teenager the only possible explanation for his passing was that he must have eaten pork at some point in the days leading up to what he thought would be a harmless dip in the ocean. The Antemoro believe there is some kind of creature of the sea who will not let you out of the ocean if you wear any kind of red clothing or eat pork. It is completely unfathomable that he simply died because he wasn’t a good swimmer. These are the kinds of things that they will debate ad nauseam and you have absolutely no chance of convincing them otherwise. I suggested we all eat pork and then I would go swimming with each person one-by-one because there is absolutely no way I would let him or her die. They said it doesn’t matter if I don’t believe; they would never survive because it’s just not possible to trick this water creature. So, while these debates can be incredibly fun and interesting, they also get a little frustrating sometimes.

In the coming weeks I am going to be going back to Ampasimanjeva for a friend’s wedding, then for the opening of some new classrooms at my old school and Christmas. In case I don’t get to say it beforehand, a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone!

Being Back

I have been back in Madagascar for nearly a month and a half now and I think I can say I am very happy with my decision to extend my service for one year.

I absolutely loved my time back home seeing family and friends, but I think I knew early on that I was happy to know I would be coming back. On the other hand, I think leaving to come back here was much more difficult and much weirder than it was when I originally left for my two-year stint. To make it even harder, during my one-month stay back home I learned one of my best friends from college will be getting married in the next year as will one of my cousins. Thank God I got to see one of my cousins' weddings while I was back home. If by some miracle I can make it to these next two, that would be great but it's not looking good. In the meantime, congratulations Amy & Nick and Ryan & Helen on your engagements!

While I was home the question I got the most was "how does it feel to be back?" In the physical sense, it honestly felt like I never left. Mentally, I was blown away. The example that comes to mind is the pantry in my parents' house. I could not remember what it was like to see so much food in one place. People here buy exactly what they need (nothing more & nothing less) before every meal. So while you might think it is a pain in the ass to hop in your car and drive a few miles to get the butter you forgot, imagine having the make that trip 3 times per day to buy exactly what you need for your upcoming meal. Yes, it's inefficient and it makes no sense, but that's how Malagasy people roll when it comes to cooking. For many of these people you can make the argument that they don't have enough money but that's not true of everyone here.

So back to that pantry...that thing would be packed full and mom would say she was going to the grocery store to get food for dinner! Absolutely blew my mind. I thought there's no way in hell we can't make something from everything in there. This kept happening particularly with the cereal. Anyone who knows me knows I could have cereal three times per day and be completely psyched. To some degree I think my mom was just trying to be the awesome mom that she is for the month I was around. But after that I just couldnt wrap my head around all the food in there, especially with only 3 people in the house before I got there. I felt guilt for knowing the situation where I had just come from but excited for Christmas in my stomach.

Quick side story...

Some people in my stage (the group of people I arrived in country with 2+ years ago) nicknamed a meal "the saddest soup" which is hot water with a chicken or beef flavored bouillon cube dropped in it. For anyone who doesn't know what that is, it's essentially the water in your Ramen noodles. I have never had this, but people say my often cooked dish of rice and ketchup (when I can get it) is pretty gross and sad as well. I beg to differ. Most PCVs are really self-motivated people but generally speaking when it comes to cooking, you can forget about it. When I was at my previous site in Ampasimanjeva, I never cooked breakfast or dinner. Breakfast because it takes too long to cook rice when you have class at 7am and dinner because nothing is worse than having to cook and then clean up in the dark.

Things have changed a little bit since I moved to Manakara. I have the option of small restaurants although I don't really go unless there are other PCVs passing through. I also have light now which works most of the time making cooking dinner much less of a pain in the ass. Even still, I'm pretty sure the 10+ pounds I put back on while in the states is gone once again.

I'll end this with one quick story that made me nuts...

After being back here for about 2 weeks, I was washing clothes at my house on a Saturday morning when someone came knocking on my gate. I told him to come in, then I got up & looked. It was a student from Ampasimanjeva. One of the worst ones I had and not because he was obnoxious in class but because he never came. He was in my classes both years I taught in Ampasimanjeva. The first year I vaguely remember him showing up every once in a while. The second year, I think I may have seen him twice all year. I remember asking my students once if Rostin had moved or if he was in the hospital. They told me he just doesn't like English. 

Now, if we're in the States or any other country that cares about education this would be mildly offensive to a teacher even if the student really just doesn't like the subject. The problem is that I'm from the States and there are some cultural differences that I just can't get around. You don't get to choose if you like a class or not in the developed world. If you choose not to go to class you are accepting that you are going to fail and that you will be taking the class and possibly the grade over. A teacher doesn't have time to baby students who don't care. My philosophy here was/is no different. They told me he doesn't like English. I was a little bummed out thinking maybe he doesn't like me or the way I teach, but I quickly forgot about it. At the end of the year last year, he (not surprisingly) didn't pass. I know this because the announcement of final grades, something that is quite personal to each student, is a very public display with every student and teacher gathered in the school yard to find out who ended up where.

Now he is at my door.

Rostin comes in and we exchange the obligatory pleasantries. He asks about how I like Manakara and what my job is here and then I ask him how he found out where I live (a fact I would like kept secret from people like Rostin). He said he asked around and found me. 

Another side note: everyone knows everything about the vazaha in town. Everything. Where I live, what I do, when I last went to a restaurant, who my girlfriend is and much more. Privacy is not a thing.

So Rostin and I are talking and he says he is in the next grade higher than he was last year which seems impossible because, as I said, he didn't pass. But weird things happen when students  change cities and monetary bribes are more of a normalcy than a criminal act.

At some point after I made this realization Rostin asks, "When can you teach me English?" I nearly lost it right there. He didn't even pose the question as an option mind you I would have said no, anyway, but the entitlement factor of it pushed me right over the edge. 

You all may remember another student of mine that I wrote about a few months ago who did a similar thing. The difference was he actually went to class, he apparently just didn't understand it and then waited two years to tell me.

I let Rostin have it. I told him he was a really bad student in Ampasimanjeva and that not showing up to class for an entire year then asking for personal tutoring is not only rude in the States but incredibly disrespectful. I told him I didn't trust him nor did I believe that he was serious about learning English this time. First he gave me some excuse which I don't even remember because it was so bad but later he took the blame and said he was wrong which I liked. You don't hear Malaasy people taking responsibility for their actions very often. 

In the end, we made a deal. There was no way I was just going to agree to give up my time for a disrespectful kid I didn't trust. So, I told him that if he came by the American Cultural Center (a small set up of books and a few computers that is moving around Madagascar and currently in Manakara), that he could talk with me and sit in in the conversation clubs we were having there. If he did that and showed a little dedication, I would open up some time on Saturday for him. I was completely shocked when I saw him the very next day. I rewarded him a bit by really only working with him. It seemed promising and I was happy I could spark a little motivation in this hopeless kid.

The next day came and went and Rostin never showed up. He has not been back and I have not seen him since.

The Worst Beach Day

Several PCVs happened to be in town this past weekend for one reason or another. We decided to go to the beach on Sunday to let off some steam and enjoy each others company. We went in the ocean, played Poles (a new game that everyone should look into), and caught up (a lot of us hadn't seen each other in some time).

We were at the beach for an hour or so when a huge congregation of Malagasy people started to form about 300+ yards to the right of us. We figured it was just another thing that Malagasy people can create a good crowd for: a card game, a group of vazaha or something as equally unfascinating. We dismissed it and went back to swimming or chatting.

But the crowd kept getting larger and now all the people in this crowd were clearly looking out into the water. One of the girls in our group became compelled by curiosity and went to see what all the commotion was about. She came back a few minutes later with a much faster pace and stopped to tell some of our friends (who were still a distance away from me) what she saw. I figured they had seen a whale or something and she was rushing back to get our attention so we wouldn't miss it. I waved to them to find out what was going on but too lazy to get up. The group of PCVs broke up-most of them running towards the crowd themselves but one came to tell me and another guy that a Malagasy kid had drown and they were looking for his body.

At first, I was shocked and felt awful but thinking back now I dont think the gravity of the situation had really sunk in. I got up and ran over thinking maybe this kid wasn't actually dead - maybe he's just in trouble and we can get him out. As the water was washing up on the shore, the 7 of us tried to get more information. I asked one man what happened and he said a kid was dead in the water. I asked if he could swim but he said no. I asked if my friends and I could go in and look for him. 

Foreigners are always seen as foreigners here so I didn't want to do anything that was going to piss a huge crowd of Malagasy people off (some french men were burned alive in a huge altercation/misunderstanding in Nosy Be last year).

Nevertheless, he said I could look. The girls stayed on the beach scanning the ocean while me and three other guys went into the ocean to find this kid.

The ocean in Manakara is no joke. It is always rough, there is always a huge undertow, relatively large waves and sometimes an unforgiving rip tide that, as a strong swimmer, kicked my ass. Most Malagasy people do not and can not swim. They are not afraid or ashamed to tell you they are terrified of the ocean. I'm assuming this kid was no different. He was probably playing by the shore, wandered to his knees and before he knew it was swept out into the actual ocean battling waves twice his size.

Within a few minutes of entering the water, the crowd roared and we could easily see what they were roaring about. About 10 feet from my friend and 15 feet from me was some body part of this kid rolling back out into the ocean after being swallowed up and battered by yet another wave. We both started half running, half swimming as hard as we could. I talked to my friend afterward and we both admitted that our hearts felt like they were going to beat out of our chests in anxiety because we were about to pull a dead person from the water. We didn't make it. Another wave came down and he was lost in the whitewash. We both started frantically scouring the water around us, but saw nothing. I didn't have to ask him but his face showed it all and I didn't have to tell him how I felt. We couldn't believe we missed him. We were so close.

Our disappointment and anxiety increased exponentially over the next 30 minutes or so as we looked but found nothing. We had to get out of the water and look from the shore because we were just getting constantly pounded by waves leaving us only a few seconds to search before having to duck the next one. I have had some incredibly deflating moments in this country and this was definitely one of, if not the worst. During that half hour I didn't know what to do-if we should stop or keep looking. I thought about professional search and rescue teams and how hopeless those guys must feel sometimes and what the families of those who are lost must feel. It's indescribable.

After this long while, another scream came from the spot on the beach where we originally had our towels and bikes 300+ yards back down the beach. We all bolted down the sand, quickly asked where they saw him and jumped in. Within seconds I saw a hand about 25 feet in front of me and my heart started racing again. The problem was we had 3 waves and a strong current to get by. One of the waves came over and absolutely wrecked all four of us guys. It was another 6-7 seconds before I was back on my feet. By the time I got my bearings I could not see this kid. I couldn't believe it. We missed our chance again.

What happened next seems incredible to think about, but one of my friends let out a small grunt and then yelled, "holy shit. I've got him. He hit my leg." We all came swimming over, grabbed a limb from under the water and hoisted him up. We had to fight a few waves to get him in but it felt like only seconds to the shore. Malagasy people quickly took him from all of us, but we tried to stay with him, especially the one of us who knows CPR. It was no use. The strength of the mob spit us out like the vazaha we are and at that point I yelled to everyone to just stay back to make sure whatever we did or were trying to do for the kid wasn't misconstrued for something else. We all wanted to do something but we all new as we brought in his limp, unresponsive body that he was probably well past saving. So we stood on the outside of the circle as they picked him up upside down by the ankles and pushed on his stomach - we can only assume in effort to push out all the sea water that he had ingested in however long he was stuck out there. Most of us couldn't watch anymore. Any chance that kid may have had (if he wasn't already dead) was lost in the seconds they wasted not letting us try CPR or bringing him directly to the hospital. We despondently walked back to our towels in complete shock by what had just happened-several Malagasy people trying to shake our hands along the way to say thank you.

In hindsight, we did do a great thing - we brought a young kid (his lifeless face looked like that of a teenager) out of the ocean giving his family the opportunity to bury him. It is especially important considering the dead are a really big part of Malagasy culture. You would not have convinced any of us of this at the time.

I don't believe in fate so I guess I would say its a great coincidence that the 7 of us were there to do something about what was happening. I had never seen a dead person before and I hope I never have to seen one again.

The ocean in Manakara on a nice, calm day. This is when I first arrived in the south east about 2 years ago.

Same Journey, New Chapter

Returned Peace Corps Volunteers (RPCVs) of Madagascar warned me that while their third year extension was one of the best decisions they've ever made, it was always difficult to see stagemates (people you arrive in country with) and your other PCV friends leave before you knowing you still have some time to go. I have officially moved to Manakara (the city of my 3rd year extension) this past week and I am no longer the education volunteer of the Lycee du Faraony in Ampasimanjeva. It's definitely a strange feeling to know that Ampasimanjeva is no longer my home. However, 'Jeva will still be there next school year and I will certainly be back to visit so some of the shock factor is suppressed. What is weirder, though, is knowing that the rest of my stage (aside from the other people who are also extending) will be leaving Madagascar for good over the course of the next few weeks. Fortunately, this devastating blow is softened by the fact that I, too, am about to take my own vacation back home to see people I haven't seen in a long time.

With each incoming group of new PCVs I've sort of felt like I've been losing my identity as a PCV of Madagascar. The only comparison I can think of would be a professional athlete who is aged past his prime and realizes everyone else from his draft class is now out of the league (looking at you, Ray Allen). It's just a very strange, almost alienating feeling. I imagine it will be even weirder when I come back to Madagascar in September and my stagemates are all gone and they have all been replaced by a new group of people that I don't know.

But I digress...

I'm done!! Holy shit!! Can you believe it?! I've been here for more than 2 years. I definitely never thought this day would come, especially in those moments at 2:00am while running to my hole in the ground thinking there's a good chance I wouldn't make it. Not only did I make it to the hole (well, maybe not every time), but I made it to two years. I just said goodbye to everyone who took me in as family in Ampasimanjeva for the past two years. I don't think it was as hard as I expected, but again that's probably because I will only be a short distance away next year.

On the day the students all got their final grades, the Proviseur said some really nice things about me in front of everyone which was really nice. His short speech prompted an applause that seemed to go on forever. After that we had a going away party for me and another school employee who is retiring. I got a chance to speak and say thank you to everyone who helped and befriended me in the past two years. They gave me gifts that no person in the first world could ever understand (from a logical point of view. Obviously, I'm sure you can all appreciate the sentimental impact). The whole thing was just a really great way to cap off an amazing two years with some amazing people. It's interesting now to think about  myself two years ago and what I considered important in the world. Some of those views remain true today but many others are so incredibly different.

I am now in Manakara. I found a house, by the way, without the help of the man who is supposed to be my supervisor and work partner for my third year. Naturally, this makes me worry about how much support I might receive from him over the next year. The good thing is that I really don't need to be nagged and pushed to get things done and my new job doesn't require much help from him. My new house is significantly bigger than my previous digs in Ampasimanjeva and it will be nice for the PCVs around Manakara to have a place to go to in Manakara once again.

As of right now, I should be leaving country on August 22nd or 24th and returning on September 21st, but I don't quite have a plane ticket yet so we'll see what happens. Either way, this is my last post before I leave. I can't wait to see you all very soon!

18 Months Later

It's done. A year and a half of work is finally complete. I will open the library known as the Faraony Resource Center on Monday, June 30th.

This has been, without a doubt, the most mentally and emotionally exhausting project I have ever been part of and it almost feels as though it's not real. There is not enough space on the Internet for me to explain in correct detail everything that happened in the past 18 months, but the bottom line is that it is finished and who knows how many people this building will help in the years to come. 

The library has more than 2,300 books jn English, French, Malagasy and some textbooks for Spanish and German. There is fiction, non-fiction, textbooks, encyclopedias, dictionaries, childrens books and more. For less than a dollar people in this area can get access to an education that may not have been possible otherwise and that is not a cliche or a joke. I'm sure its no coincidence that the most difficult job I have ever worked on also feels like the most important thing I have ever done in my life.

There are so many people who helped me every step of the way and others who were so difficult that they appeared hell bent on sending me on a taxi brousse to the nearest nuthouse.

I'm not going to use an entire blog to send shout outs to people, but my family has put up with a lot of my crap through these two years and much more before I got to Madagascar. But the most important thing is that they have all been supportive of me since I became a PCV and became part of something that really makes me happy (albeit in a very unique way). All PCVs get supportive packages and phone calls from family, but my mom has answered every one of my requests from helping with fundraising in the US to sending me library cards to the labels I used for classifying books to just being a positive support system when nothing was going right (and the whole time she probably just wanted to say: what the hell are you doing? Come home). Thank you Mom, Dad, Matt and Jared. This post is for you guys. Thank you to everyone who gave money to this project and thanks to everyone who has ever read or commented on one of my blogs. I appreciate the support. You will never know how big of a part you played in helping me finish this. Without further ado, I give you the Faraony Resource Center.

The front doors

     A Peace Corps emblem on the side.

Got a little corny and wrote my name and service years.

This is what it looks like right as you step in the doors.

Going to put 6 small desks back to back to make a table.

The pictures you see above the shelves are pictures of places in the states. People here really like pictures so I thought that would be cool.

That's the librarians desk and some maps. The small shelf is where people will put their books when they're done for the librarian to put back.

Some non-fiction and some textbooks down below.

I got 6 sets of encyclopedias from Books for Africa. Those are the blue ones below the window.

                     Some fiction

A picture from the road with the sign and the back of the building.

My good friend who does Kung-Fu poses in literally every picture. He helped me put the sign in.

Thanks MOM!

The library card asks for first and last name, job (for purposes of payment. It's 1,000 for students and 2,000 for everyone else per year), the date the card expires and signatures from the card holder and the director of the library. 

Picture of the books already classified but no furniture/shelves.

I also have just finished my classes so I have officially finished my main job for Peace Corps for my 2 years of service.

Finally, I took a fairly stuffed taxi-brousse recently and thought I would give you all a taste.

Uh, come again?

Last week a student who has been in my classes for the last two years came up to me after class and asked if I would be in my house the next morning because he needed to talk to me. I said no problem. The next morning he showed up casually late (a standard Malagasy custom) and took a seat in one of the two chairs I have in my house. 

A quick sidenote about the custom for letting people in your home...Technically you are not supposed to walk into someone's house unless the host or hostess says, "come in." Now, that rule sort of falls by the wayside as you get to know people really well but that's the custom, nonetheless. Sometimes it's a bit funny if you dont say "come in" right away and watch and see how long it takes them to become visibly uncomfortable or for them to ask if they can come in. It's incredibly impolite if you don't say it - doesn't matter if you're talking to the mayor or the town clepto. Its particularly funny when you get a group of 10 bored students walking around in between classes and I have to tell them to "come in" to my house the size of a large walk-in closet. As the guest, you are also allowed to say, "eto avao" which roughly translates to, "thanks but here is fine" and awkwardly stand in the doorway. This is a good option if you want to avoid extended conversation or dont mind being late to wherever you're going. There's actually a joke amongst PC Madagascar/Africa that the time it takes you to get from point A to point B is completely dependent on how many people are sitting outside their front door. But of course, no student ever goes with "eto avao" because all of them need to see what the white guy has in his place (even if they've already been inside 50 times). So I tell this cloud of students to come in & they all file in with a precision that only Malagasy people seem to be born with (honestly I would love to see these people play tetris or something cause it's amazing how they can fit so much stuff in so many small places). I would equate it to something like a clown car at the circus except those clowns have limbs coming out of every opening (right? I've never actually seen a clown car at the circus but the analogy sounds good so go with it). Malagasy people pack themselves away with much more precision than the clowns.

So, after a few minutes of moving things around to make room for these people I now have all these students sitting in places I never thought could double as a seat. In traditional malagasy custom the eldest is usually the one to speak, but when it comes to several students visiting my house at the same time, they usually just defer to whoever can speak English the best (which in most cases means they can get to "whats new?" and then the conversation either reverts to gasy or just comes to a very awkward pause). Once the obligatory pleasantries are out of the way and each student has silently looked at all the newspaper clippings and other (mostly sports) pictures around my house, the 3-5 minute process of them finding a way to get out of my house begins and the delegated speaker says (in Malagasy now) "we were just passing by. See you later," all the while I'm thinking 'there goes another 10 minutes I can never get back.'

So back to this one student who needs my help and is in my house now. He starts out by saying (in Malagasy), "Sorry Rory but I have a problem." In my head I'm thinking, 'oh boy, its 8am and I have a bunch of stuff I would like to get done before noon.' Gasy people will tell you their problem 7 different ways and each way takes about 20 minutes. After the third one you just wanna scream out, "yeah, I got it the first time. What the hell do you want me to do about the cat who ate your chicken?" or whatever the issue of the day might be. So I cringe in my seat and ask, "okay, what's the problem?" This particular situation was a bit weird though because a handful of students are "regulars" at my house because they are looking to speak English (and have actually gotten quite good), but this kid had never been over in the 2 years I've been his teacher. "I really want to be good at English," he says. "Can you help me?" Instant slack jaw. You're kidding, right? I've been here for nearly two years, both of those with you as one of my students, all the while constantly preaching about my open-door policy and now, with 1 month left in the trimester and 2 months left in my service in Ampasimanjeva, you have the cojones to enter my walk-in closet and tell me you want to learn English? Just one question: what the f*#k have you been doing in my class for two years? Most people with half a brain would see this as a slap in the face and go nuts as I just displayed above, but I kept my cool and relayed my thoughts with a little more diplomacy. He told me he didnt ask earlier because he was scared. I thought to myself 'common sense told you that now, in my house with no witnesses would be the safest time to do so?" He then offered me a bottle of honey (I'm not sure if it was supposed to be as pay for my help or as a peace offering for me to forget how pissed off I was) which I told him I couldn't accept but I was always happy to help. It was like Peace Corps took hold of my tongue and made me say it. In the end I huffed and puffed my way through an hour and a half speaking lesson before he said his brain was tired and walked out. I felt dirty and used. He says he is going to come back every week until I leave. We'll see about that.

A few updates...I am headed to PC Madagascar's training center this week for my close of service conference with the rest of the volunteers I came into this country with nearly two years ago. Pretty wild. 

I also have finished inventory on all the books in the library. There are more than 2,200 books in there in English, French, Malagasy, some Spanish and even a little German. The shelves will be put in on the 26th after which I'll make some finishing touches and open that sucker up!

Updates From a Long Absence

There is a perfectly good explanation for my prolonged absence from this blog. Remember when I did that information session via videochat with prospective volunteers at University of Miami? No? Well I did that and it was a lot of fun. I got to talk about Madagascar, my work and hear how different PC life is for two other UM alumni currently serving in other countries. Anyways, while I was in the big city using fast internet and living the life in order to do this videochat, my computer finally gave out. No idea what happened, but PCVs' electronics have a knack for just throwing in the towel during their two years in Madagascar. Bottom line, writing a new blog post was sort of put on the back burner for a while. In Madagascar, it's hard enough to get electricity to use a computer. Then, once you have electricity it's even harder to find a way to get internet on said computer. Then, it's even harder to find internet that won't take a few days to load a webpage. Needless to say, all of this becomes exponentially more difficult without a computer. Nevertheless, here I am, back to entertain you with yet another installment of my Gasy adventures...

How bout that library, eh?

Library is cruising right now. A few weeks ago I finished classifying an insane amount of books. I honestly had no idea it was going to be that tedious or take me that long to do. As of right now, I'm not a huge fan of Dewey or his decimal system. Here is a small look at a section of books in the library (they are all sitting in organized, alphabetical piles all over the floor of the library).

We've got English, French and Malagasy books. People will pay a small, yearly fee to use the library, but won't be able to check the books out because of theft. People will get a library card with their payment and will have to submit that to the librarian in order to get in. There will be shelves along the walls of the library and a long table in the middle where everyone can sit to read. 

Right now, I am on my way back to site from vacation. When I get back I will be working to build some shelves for the library, which should take a week or so. After that, we can install the shelves, stock em and prep the library itself. When all that is done, we should be good to go. I'd say we're looking at another month (fingers crossed) before it opens. I really would like to work in it for a few months before I leave Ampasimanjeva. Here is the sign I had made to put out on the road in Ampasimanjeva...

This will be put on the road outside the library. One of my friends asked me what "Faraony Resource Center" means in Malagasy. I told him there's no real meaning its just a name. He told me I should write "Bibliotheque" in pen so people know exactly what it is [shakes head].

Also when I get back I am going to be helping a new Agriculture volunteer install at her new site. She is replacing a guy who had been there since I arrived in country. It's really nice to have helpful, fun PCVs around you and Nick was defintely that. He will be missed. All the best back home, bud.

Finally, the third and final trimester of my two year Peace Corps service will begin upon my return to Ampasimanjeva. I could get all nostalgic right now, but I'm planning to be here for another here, so we'll wait on that post for a little while. Speaking of being here for a little while, extension papers and application forms have all been sent in. No volunteer is guaranteed an extension if he/she applies, but I am hoping I will be approved. My Peace Corps supervisor went with me to talk to my future boss in Manakara a few weeks ago and it seems like everything is a go, provided I am approved and that there is a house for me to live in. A few weeks ago, this future boss showed me a house where I would live in a small room (no problem, already used to that) with another family (not used to that, but it could be an adventure) right across the street from the lycee in Manakara (perfect location). Unfortunately, the man of the house smokes like a chimney (deal breaker) so we have to go back to the drawing board to find another location. If they don't find anything then I still could be coming home in September.

I just got back from my second vacation to Mauritius since I arrived in country. The first time was with my parents back in September and now this past week and a half during Easter. I went with 6 other volunteers and we had a great time. Sorry, I didn't take any pictures. Partly because I'm lazy, but mostly because everyone else has cameras so I figured I would just look at theirs, right? I'm sure I'll get their pictures before I leave this country and sometime in the future I will let everyone have a looksie. It was great though we: saw museums, parks, waterfalls, went ziplining, kitesurfing, snorkeling, did excursions on the water, and much more. We spent a week and a half in the land of electricity and things. Now, we are back in Madagascar. We'll see how this transition goes.

That's all for now. Back soon, computer permitting.

Extending

After a lot of consideration and a few discussions with my family, I believe I am going to be extending my Peace Corps service here in Madagascar. I think I actually had it in my mind for quite some time now that this is what I wanted to do but this past weekend I spoke with the person who I believe will be my co-worker for my third year and he gave me his approval for the job in Manakara. You may recognize the name of the city because it is my banking town and the closest “major city” to Ampasimanjeva. The third year job would be with the CISCO Manakara which is essentially the equivalent of any public school system in the states. I would live in Manakara but most of my job would take place outside of the city in the smaller, more rural towns that I have really come to love during my two years. You might be wondering why I would choose to move to a bigger city only to continue working in the rural areas, especially if I prefer the small town life. Well, Manakara is hands-down my favorite city in this country and I think it would make for a nice transition from rural Peace Corps life to life outside of Madagascar, wherever that may lead. But back to the job… I would hold English clubs once per week at the lycee in Manakara, but the primary project would be to organize teacher trainings for the English teachers at the CEGs (middle schools) and Lycees (High Schools) within the district. Following the training I just did with all the teachers from the small region of schools near my house, I realized the English education in the area is so much worse than I previously knew. These teachers can speak only a few sentences in English and, even worse, they have no idea how to teacher grammar or sentence structure. Since that first training, I have held one workshop for the English teachers only and will continue to do so once per month until the school year ends. I’m hoping by the end of the school year we will have improved a little bit. These trainings may not seem like a lot, but it really feels like these teachers are getting something out of the instruction. And, as Peace Corps would say…what is more sustainable than training English teachers how to properly teach English. Otherwise, these Malagasy teachers will be teaching incorrectly for years after PCVs leave and we will have nothing to show for all our work. This new job will also allow me to do something that I have really come to enjoy since I arrived in country: biking. Right now, my lycee is one of the farthest schools from Manakara that still lies within the district and I have biked the distance (about 72km) more than a dozen times at this point. The other schools I would go to are between Ampasimanjeva and Manakara. If I ever get tired of biking (which I most certainly will) I apparently can ask for a ride in one of the CISCO cars (and not have to take a taxi-brousse! Livin’ in luxury). Aside from the trainings/workshops that I’ll organize with the English teachers, I’ll also be traveling around to sit in on their classes and hopefully making some suggestions on their lessons or their English in general. When I was thinking about the extension process, I wanted to make sure I stayed here for a good reason and I think this could be something I’d be really proud of while still being able to experiences some of the freedoms and amenities that I haven’t had in some time. So, the CISCO is currently looking for a house for me in Manakara. After that, I will need to get final approval from Peace Corps Senior staff and then it will be a done deal. If it doesn’t work, there is a current third year volunteer who lives in another big city close to the capital. She has raved about how much she loves her job right now and says I would love it too, so that could be another possibility should this job in Manakara not work out. Two years is a long time to be in Peace Corps, ask any volunteer who has ever served in the world. Three years is obviously even longer. But when you love what you’re doing and can take pleasure in the impact you’re having, why is any amount of time too long? I miss my family (immediate and extended, I miss the big family gatherings and I miss my friends, but I love what I am doing here and right now I don’t know if there are too many jobs that could give me the same day-to-day sense of reward and satisfaction that I get here. This is an opportunity I have now and I don’t want to regret not taking advantage of it 20 years down the line. I’m sure any opportunity that I may have been able to take advantage of stateside in September will still be a possibility a year later (fingers crossed). Now, for the really good news: each volunteer extending for one year is allowed one month of home leave. Looks like mine will be around August or September to coincide with my cousin’s wedding. You all should start thinking about taking some time off work around then. I’d love to see as many of you as I can in that month. Finally, I am currently in Fianarantsoa to do a promotional event for Peace Corps and University of Miami. If you’re near Coral Gables, you should definitely come check it out. Three UM grads/current PCVs and I will be video chatting with everyone about our experiences. It starts at 6:30 your time. Here are some links I have received advertising the event: https://everitas.univmiami.net/2014/02/13/learn-about-joining-the-peace-corps-at-live-chat-with-current-um-volunteers-and-president-shalala/. http://peacecorpsvolunteers.blogspot.com/2014/01/rory-lincoln-of-university-of-miami-fl.html Hope to see you on the interwebs!

News of the Day & An Observation on Gasy Youth

When they don’t want to make you go blow your brains out, Malagasy people, especially kids, are pretty amazing in the sense that no physical or mental obstacle is too big to overcome. It is the intellectual obstacles that seem to throw everyone into a never-before-seen state of lethargy.

These kids are so much tougher than kids in the states. No child is too young to begin manual labor or start trying new things that American kids probably wouldn’t start until they are in their mid-teens. Walking up and down my road from my house into town I will see kids carrying buckets full of water or bundles of sticks for firewood (usually on their heads without using their hands for balance) that are bigger than them. Toddlers will herd cattle that weigh 15 times as much as they do – and the only thing they have to defend themselves is a small stick. These kids will fearlessly bark out orders in incomprehensible Gasy and jump between the herd without regard for their own, frail little bodies when a particular cow starts losing its mind. Herding cattle is an everyday affair that obviously requires very little intellect (or perhaps none if you choose to work with these unpredictable beasts). These cattle herders (or cowboys as they like to call themselves when an American asks) rise before most (and all people here are up before the sun) and spend the entire day walking through outrageous heat that would have most of us crying for an ice cream and our A/C on full blast without regard for the electric bill. But, when you have no idea what A/C is or that is even exists, then who cares, right? That is life here and ignorance is bliss. Another thing, could you ever imagine a child of any age waking up at 3 or 4 in the morning on a Saturday to do physical labor or walk a cow around in the blistering heat for hours? When I was a teenager I slept comfortably until 10 am in my fluffy duvet comforter in the middle of the summer with the A/C on high and an extra fan pointed at me for good measure. God forbid if I still couldn’t sleep well on a particular night because everyone would know it the next day.

Another thing is kids aren’t afraid to try new things here. This might have just been me as a kid, but I’m gonna go ahead and generalize it on the entire population of American youth. In Madagascar it is not crazy to see a 5-year-old riding on a bike made for an adult. They see people riding around on bikes and they want to give it a go. Since you don’t need a license to ride a bike, why not? Training wheels? In Madagascar? Not a chance. These kids skip right past the Barbie and Hot Wheels bike with the streamers on the handles and big, sturdy training wheels and head straight for the big boy ride. I have seen kids spend an entire day on a field trying to figure out how to mount a bike and pedal even though they can’t reach the seat and the pedals at the same time (its possible). It doesn’t matter how many times they fall because each time it seems to get funnier and become less of a reason to cry and quit. Once they get it there is no stopping them. I think what I’m saying is that being here I have realized that kids in the states, including myself, are pampered divas. This is not just because we have training wheels back home, but for so many other reasons that you really have to see for yourself to understand.

Speaking of kids in this country, there is no social stigma attached to older people befriending young kids which takes a hell of a lot of getting used to coming from our culture. So often you will see people in their mid-to-late 20s who appear to be best friends with a 10-year-old. In the states most 18-year-olds wouldn’t be caught dead playing soccer with a person younger than 10 unless they were in a place where the public eye couldn’t see them and their reputation wouldn’t take a hit. On the other hand, such a scenario might be even more of a cause for concern for bystanders if an 18-year-old only wants to hang out with someone younger than them if they are alone. A lot of times volunteers will get packages with American food in them (a huge deal and a great day for any volunteer). Sometimes, these volunteers are good enough to share (definitely not me) with kids and friends. But could you imagine a person in the states in their mid-20s luring a child or teen into their house with the help of food? Yikes. I believe such a thing is illegal in most of the 50 states. Before I start sounding like a pedophile myself, I’m going to stop talking about kids. The whole point of this blog is to share some of the things that have surprised me in this country and this is definitely one of them. The relationships that people have here, despite age differences, blows me away. No one cares about what others thing. The idea of befriending someone who is older or younger than you has not been tainted by the social hierarchy or deranged pedophiles (at least in my village).

So, switching gears…

Library is going well. All the books are inside and sorted. I still have to label all of them and then organize them on shelves. Unfortunately, my lycee is responsible for getting all the furniture for the library, but getting anyone to pay for anything or even to show a little interest in helping me wrap this project up seems nearly impossible. I may have mentioned this already, but Peace Corps requires the local community to give 25% participation to each volunteer project. I got some money for the library from the head of education in my region as well as the equivalent of a governor, but the lycee pledged a material donation for the furniture in the library. Unfortunately, I still don’t have it, but I will be sure to post more pictures when they arrive and the books are stocked. Right now, its just the same building with books all over the inside.

School is also going well. We are well into our second and longest trimester of the year. I’m really starting to see a huge difference in these students’ (particularly the ones that I have now had for almost two years) ability to speak English. It’s a pretty cool feeling. There are about a handful of students who come over pretty regularly now just to talk and another bunch of students who only speak English to me when I see them outside of class. Seems like this whole Peace Corps thing might actually be working. Who knew?

I’m not sure if I have mentioned this before, but I represent my region three times per year in the capital for a meeting with the country’s senior staff. This march will be my third and final meeting as the VAC representative for the southeast. Before the national meeting, each region gets together to discuss new Peace Corps policies and changes that we think should be made. My last regional meeting that I will be in charge of organizing will be in two weeks in a town called Manombo. I just went there last weekend to check it out before we all get there (another volunteer also lives there) and I’m really excited. It’ll be a few days of camping, little to no phone service and just each other’s company. We always seem to really enjoy these meetings and I’m thinking this is going to be just as good, if not better.

In regards to the possibility of me extending my service for another year here in Madagascar. It is still very much a possibility. My supervisor just gave me approval to look into a job that I proposed so that is exciting. Right now though it is nothing more than a proposal, but I do enjoy my work here and I’m not always so sure the grass (and by grass, I mean job opportunities that you truly love doing and don’t necessarily consider work) will be greener on the other side of the Atlantic. Then again, I found this Peace Corps job, right? What’s to say there aren’t hundreds of more jobs that I would love just like it either back in the states or in another country? Decisions, decisions. Stay tuned.

One of my friends who really helped me advertise my library project now has a project of her own right now. She is trying to send a fellow English teacher to the states for a training. Here’s the website: www.indiegogo.com/projects/help-jemima-present-at-the-international-tesol-conference#&ui-state=dialog Please pass the word along.

I gave a training to English teachers in my region a few weeks ago. It focused pretty much on techniques of presenting new material, different ways to prepare for class, and how to teach to people who learn/retain information in different ways. Unfortunately, a lot of this was a little over their heads because none of them are actual teachers (although, neither am I really). The entire training was in Malagasy because they would have never understood what I was saying if I spoke English. They simply cannot speak it. I mean can you imagine an English teacher who doesn’t speak English or any language teacher who is unable to speak the target language? That would be like an 800-pound gym teacher holding a taco and telling young students to run laps. Like hell anyone is going to listen to that dude (actually my gym teacher in middle school used to chase us around the football field in her car when we ran the mile. She was a big lady). The English teacher that I work with at my lycee (who can speak very good English actually) just called it one of the saddest things she had ever seen.

Until next time.