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.
