So I feel I have to make the ubiquitous post of what it's like to walk the streets of Madagascar as a big, white person. This post is more tailored towards folks back home than my fellow PCVs here in Madaland. In Malagasy, the term for anyone who is white is vazaha (pronounced: vah-ZAH). It literally translates as "foreigner". You pass people on the street and you can hear them as you pass say to one another, "That's a big vazaha that one." That's if they're being shy. "Bonjour vazaha!" is much more common, particularly amongst school children. Or sometimes they'll just yell "VAZAHA!", with a big smile on their face. Imagine, walking the streets of America as a foreigner and you can't go 20 paces without someone yelling at you, "Hey! Foreigner!". The idea that not every white person in Madagascar is NOT French is a difficult concept for the Malagasy because of the very strong French influence and presence throughout their history. It sometimes blows peoples minds when they throw a "Bonjour vazaha!" at you and you can respond in their language with, "Manakory! Tsy mahay teny fransay aho fa afaka miteny Malagasy. Amerikanina aho. Inona no vaovao?". Also, when younger children happen to look up and be standing below a vazaha, they often turn, screaming in terror, and run away. This is a response that is most likely due to the fact that many Malagasy parents tell their children that they'll sell them to the vazaha if they don't behave. Walking through my local market, vendors will often ask me if I want to buy their misbehaving children so that the kids will quit acting up. I'll joke back with them sometimes and say, "How much?". However, I've learned that you often HAVE to tell Malagasy when you're being sarcastic and just joking with them. Yeah, that's easy...
Now, I'm not really complaining. At times, it is quite annoying for people to yell "FOREIGNER!" at you all the time. But it also provides a lot of opportunities for me to see the surprised look on their faces when I come back at them in their own tongue and we can actually have a decent conversation about both of our lives. It is true that at my site people have stopped yelling it at me for the most part (though the "Bonjours" still come quite often, little by little though). Kids that I don't even know will yell "Manakory James!" at me now.
Here's a social experiment for you folks back in the States if you're feeling up to it: if you ever happen to be walking down your local city/small town streets and see someone who doesn't look like you and who could quite possibly not be from the United States, yell "FOREIGNER!" at them. Not in a mean or abrasive way. But loud and smiling! I would really be interested to see what this person's the reaction would be. Thank you very much.
In another news, I've been attending another round of training sessions with Conservation International (CI) this week in market town (Moramanga). This time, though, it's been much more interesting than the previous round in Tamatave. We've been doing sessions on how to systematically record data from forest research in a comprehensive manner. Today, we had a session on how to use GPS devices. However, I found myself being the trainer of the trainers and wound up leading the session. Now, this was likely not due to me having great expertise using GPS. But it was more likely due to my experience playing Grand Theft Auto on the XBOX with the Mugs back at the Manor and the Lodge hunting down Russian mafia. One can apply all kinds of skills as a Peace Corps volunteer.
We also had our regional Volunteer Action Committee (VAC) meeting in Moramanga this past weekend where most volunteers who live my area came to town. There were about 10 of us. Much less a meeting (which we did have and discussed in thorough detail the plans for our regional t-shirts) than an excuse to get to see and get to know fellow regional volunteers. We went to karaoke!! Folks, you know I don't like Neil Diamond, but I sang the hell out of "Sweet Caroline". And I also sang "Thriller" cause I found a shirt in the market earlier in the day with a series of zombies doing all the moves to the dance. Best $2 I've spent in Mada.
I miss y'all!
Take care folks!
J
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Time, Communication, Wives, Cows, Drunks, and Stones
I woke up late several weeks ago when I was in Tamatave. I had asked the gentleman who I was traveling with what time I should be ready to leave and catch a taxi-brousse home in the morning. "Early", he said. A knock came on my door at 6:30am from Kara, the other volunteer traveling with us in Tamatave, waking me up from a beer and brouchettes induced slumber, saying that it was time to go. (Since when were people ever in a hurry on this island and since when did early actually mean EARLY?). I scrambled out of bed, showered, and ran downstairs to get out of town. We left the hotel in hurry to get to the brousse station when my VOI Federation President (who apparently had arrived, unbeknownst to me, during the night) calls for us from the hotel that he needs to talk to us. We go back, he invites me to COME BACK to Tamatave in a few days to go the environment festival in Fenoarivo Est. I say, "Sure, sounds great, call me, we'll work it out, I gotta go, thanks!". Three days later, I leave site again and I travel to Moramanga (my banking, market, travel, and otherwise get'r'dun place) with the expectancy of possibly going to Fenoarivo that morning. However, no word whatsoever from Mr. President. I called his wife, Mrs. President, and asked if she would have him call me. No problem, she says. I don't hear a word from the man all day. I say forget it, and wind up spending the night in Moramanga eating delicious food. (Delicious food is a rarity in my life of rice. Mary Lois, I hope you thoroughly enjoyed Italy and its cuisine.) Anyway, such is the way that "time" and "plans" work on this beautiful island.
I was sitting in my town one Sunday afternoon, trying to explain to the people in my town that I did not need or want to go to church with them (I've been to Gasy church, I know what it's like, no need for round 2). One of the older ladies came and sat next to me and explained that a gentleman from out of town had come the day before to buy some cows. I asked her why he had come here to buy cows. She explained that he didn't have a wife. At this point, I remember my PC cultural training that in some areas of Madagascar, it's standard practice to present the bride-to-be's family with a cow/cows. I ignored my training. I said to the older lady, "So if you can't get a wife than you better buy some cows?". She, and everyone else sitting on the porch, found this to be the funniest thing they'd heard all month. Since then, when the people in my town ask me if I'm still looking for a wife and I say no, they find it very funny to tell me to go buy some cows. If you don't find this funny, sorry, guess you had to be there. :)
I came to the capitol on Monday this week because I couldn't hear out of my right ear for almost 2 weeks. Got that fixed. No problems. Used my coming to Tana as an excuse to go see a fellow volunteer to the west of Tana about 50km in Arivonimamo. Arivonimamo literally translates as "thousand the drunk", in other words, "the land of a thousand drunks". Don't worry, I didn't see one drunk person, including myself and Eric, the volunteer who lives in Arivonimamo. I did see Eric's Posh Corps house, running hot water, electricity, tile kitchen, the works. The night I was there, we went down the street from Eric's house to watch the European Cup match between Greece and the Czech Republic in a tiny room filled with church pews and a very small television. We payed the equivalant of 10cents to watch. We also went on a fantastic hike through the mountains around Arivonimamo (check the Facebook for pictures because I'm too lazy to upload twice). It was absolutely beautiful. The landscape and environment of Madagascar changes with every kilometer you hike or drive. Where I live, the land is steep, rolling hills with the occasional rock face and is a vibrant green in color thanks to year-round rains that fall in the easter rainforest corridor. In the central highland plateau (around Arivonimamo), the color is greenish-brown with shrub grass, pines, eucalyptus, and many many gigantic rock faces. The hilltops allow you to see for miles and miles. We saw what the Malagasy call "mitsangambato", standing stones. These are used to mark where people either died, are buried, or are simply remembered. I don't think this practice is very common here in the highlands anymore. Above ground family tombs tend to be the standard practice but, from what I've learned, mitsangambato are still fairly commonly used in the south of the island. The pictures I took will never do the landscape justice. Eric and his Gasy friend, Jean-Claude, brought their bikes along in the hopes of us being able to find a bike I could use in the town we were walking to. After 3 hours of walking, we came to the town we were trying to reach where Jean-Claude had a meeting with a newly formed cooperative that he was a member of. Held the meeting in the local elementary school which was vacant thanks to the ongoing teacher's strike throughout the island. After the meeting, had lunch at an hotely (the word for a restaurant the serves typical Gasy fair) for a very reasonable 50cents. We found a bike for me to ride and took the main road back to Arivonimamo. We got back to town in 1 hour after what had taken us 3 hours previously.
I'm currently in Tana and heading to Moramanga tomorrow for my regional volunteer meeting which is on Saturday. About 10 other volunteers in my region will be coming so it will be great to everyone (and meet everyone) that lives in my area.
Until next time, tsara ny fiainana (life is good),
J
I was sitting in my town one Sunday afternoon, trying to explain to the people in my town that I did not need or want to go to church with them (I've been to Gasy church, I know what it's like, no need for round 2). One of the older ladies came and sat next to me and explained that a gentleman from out of town had come the day before to buy some cows. I asked her why he had come here to buy cows. She explained that he didn't have a wife. At this point, I remember my PC cultural training that in some areas of Madagascar, it's standard practice to present the bride-to-be's family with a cow/cows. I ignored my training. I said to the older lady, "So if you can't get a wife than you better buy some cows?". She, and everyone else sitting on the porch, found this to be the funniest thing they'd heard all month. Since then, when the people in my town ask me if I'm still looking for a wife and I say no, they find it very funny to tell me to go buy some cows. If you don't find this funny, sorry, guess you had to be there. :)
I came to the capitol on Monday this week because I couldn't hear out of my right ear for almost 2 weeks. Got that fixed. No problems. Used my coming to Tana as an excuse to go see a fellow volunteer to the west of Tana about 50km in Arivonimamo. Arivonimamo literally translates as "thousand the drunk", in other words, "the land of a thousand drunks". Don't worry, I didn't see one drunk person, including myself and Eric, the volunteer who lives in Arivonimamo. I did see Eric's Posh Corps house, running hot water, electricity, tile kitchen, the works. The night I was there, we went down the street from Eric's house to watch the European Cup match between Greece and the Czech Republic in a tiny room filled with church pews and a very small television. We payed the equivalant of 10cents to watch. We also went on a fantastic hike through the mountains around Arivonimamo (check the Facebook for pictures because I'm too lazy to upload twice). It was absolutely beautiful. The landscape and environment of Madagascar changes with every kilometer you hike or drive. Where I live, the land is steep, rolling hills with the occasional rock face and is a vibrant green in color thanks to year-round rains that fall in the easter rainforest corridor. In the central highland plateau (around Arivonimamo), the color is greenish-brown with shrub grass, pines, eucalyptus, and many many gigantic rock faces. The hilltops allow you to see for miles and miles. We saw what the Malagasy call "mitsangambato", standing stones. These are used to mark where people either died, are buried, or are simply remembered. I don't think this practice is very common here in the highlands anymore. Above ground family tombs tend to be the standard practice but, from what I've learned, mitsangambato are still fairly commonly used in the south of the island. The pictures I took will never do the landscape justice. Eric and his Gasy friend, Jean-Claude, brought their bikes along in the hopes of us being able to find a bike I could use in the town we were walking to. After 3 hours of walking, we came to the town we were trying to reach where Jean-Claude had a meeting with a newly formed cooperative that he was a member of. Held the meeting in the local elementary school which was vacant thanks to the ongoing teacher's strike throughout the island. After the meeting, had lunch at an hotely (the word for a restaurant the serves typical Gasy fair) for a very reasonable 50cents. We found a bike for me to ride and took the main road back to Arivonimamo. We got back to town in 1 hour after what had taken us 3 hours previously.
I'm currently in Tana and heading to Moramanga tomorrow for my regional volunteer meeting which is on Saturday. About 10 other volunteers in my region will be coming so it will be great to everyone (and meet everyone) that lives in my area.
Until next time, tsara ny fiainana (life is good),
J
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Forest Rangers and Toamasina
I went out last week with the Polisin'y Ala (Volunteer Forest Rangers) into the Maromizaha Forest to scout out illegal tavy (slash and burn agriculture) and sarbon (Gasy charcoal) projects. We found plenty (see my Facebook page for pictures).
Last weekend, I attended my first Gasy "ball" on Saturday night in Andasibe. A "ball" is a drunken dance party. Loud music, sweaty people, bright flashy lights. I came, I saw, I did not conquer. Most Gasy stay till 5 or 6 am. After being there for 6 hours at 2am, I was finished and went to sleep at a Gasy friend's house, only to be awoken at 5am to the horrible, screetching, hollering sound that only a damned goose can make. If eating goose everyday in this country were affordable, I would happily do it in order to decrease their population.
I was lucky enough to be able to go to Tamatave/Toamasina (same city, different names) last week for four days. I went with representatives from my VOI federation to some training sessions with Conservation International (CI). It was all in Gasy. Another volunteer who also lives close to Moramanga, Kara, was there as well. Eighty percent of the time, we had no clue what anyone was saying. We knew they were discussing global warming, basic accounting, VOI inner-workings, CI projects, etc., but specifics?, yeah right! We sat patiently through 3 days of excruciatingly boring sessions but were left with little room to complain, since CI was paying for our hotel room, food, and transportation costs. I'll take it, mmk? Four nights in Toamasina was quite nice, especially since I had beer and brouchettes (steak kabobs) for dinner every night. Upon returning from Toamasina, I went to Andasibe again to meet up with some other volunteers to just take a load off for the night. We cooked dinner at a German friend's house and met a couple of traveler's from Poland, Germany, and the Netherlands. I arrived back at site on Sunday, my official Peace Corps house is mbola tsy vita (still not done). More bungalow time for me.
Take care,
J
Last weekend, I attended my first Gasy "ball" on Saturday night in Andasibe. A "ball" is a drunken dance party. Loud music, sweaty people, bright flashy lights. I came, I saw, I did not conquer. Most Gasy stay till 5 or 6 am. After being there for 6 hours at 2am, I was finished and went to sleep at a Gasy friend's house, only to be awoken at 5am to the horrible, screetching, hollering sound that only a damned goose can make. If eating goose everyday in this country were affordable, I would happily do it in order to decrease their population.
I was lucky enough to be able to go to Tamatave/Toamasina (same city, different names) last week for four days. I went with representatives from my VOI federation to some training sessions with Conservation International (CI). It was all in Gasy. Another volunteer who also lives close to Moramanga, Kara, was there as well. Eighty percent of the time, we had no clue what anyone was saying. We knew they were discussing global warming, basic accounting, VOI inner-workings, CI projects, etc., but specifics?, yeah right! We sat patiently through 3 days of excruciatingly boring sessions but were left with little room to complain, since CI was paying for our hotel room, food, and transportation costs. I'll take it, mmk? Four nights in Toamasina was quite nice, especially since I had beer and brouchettes (steak kabobs) for dinner every night. Upon returning from Toamasina, I went to Andasibe again to meet up with some other volunteers to just take a load off for the night. We cooked dinner at a German friend's house and met a couple of traveler's from Poland, Germany, and the Netherlands. I arrived back at site on Sunday, my official Peace Corps house is mbola tsy vita (still not done). More bungalow time for me.
Take care,
J
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