Happy 4th! in Madagascar

I picture my friends and family barbecuing, playing frisbee or soccer in a park, along with crowds of other Americans taking the day to relax. I imagine people sporting red white and blue shirts, hats and even socks (as my dad proudly wears) to show their patriotism and passing by houses with flags hung high. 

These images swim through my head, not as a longing to be back in the US but as a fond remembrance as I search for traditions and stories to share with my Malagasy friends and acquaintances. This is my train of thought as I stroll down the paved road which splits my town in half, leading to the market and the sole Epicerie (1room store stocked with staples such as rice and coca cola). I have a troop of 10 kids beside and behind me, chanting "USA" but sounding more like "oooo S ahh". I am making my rounds congratulating my neighbors and fellow visitors on the arrival of American Independence Day! To mirror the Malagasy custom, this greeting is exchanged then a few kisses on the cheek. People were mostly surprised when I extended my hand to them but interested in the fact today was an American holiday. Most conversation centered around how old America is, in comparison to Madagascar whose Independence on June 26th marked its 54th year. I also explained similarities between our country's celebrations such as singing the National Anthem, playing games, dancing and spending time with family.   

I utilized a bag of American Flag button pins which people happily received. I helped many of them pin it to their shirt, explaining blue should always be at the top, some probably never having seen any other flag besides their own. These pins had been passed down to me from a volunteer who had just completed his 2 year service; as is PCV custom to 'scavenge' those possessions no longer needed by volunteers returning to the wondrous 1st world. These most often being nonperishable foodstuffs, highly prized here in the 3rd. 

After my walk-around I held a "Bon fety" in my house. Following Malagasy custom this time, I invited the women's group I have worked closely with, my neighbors & the people I talk to the most for a taste of American holiday..or at least what I could throw together for the occasion. This turned out to be Apple cider (instant 'just add water' packets thanks to another PCV who left the country a year ago) and some sweet crackers I had bought in my banking town 30k to the north of my village earlier that day. 

First thing first, a short speech welcoming everyone and thanking them for coming to share the holiday with me. I expressed my desire to be in my village this day, because they are my family & this is my home. I received a round of applause & then the doctor, neighbor & Epicerie owner gave speeches, followed by a member of the women's group as well. I was wished good health and thanked for being in the village& that I would be missed when I was gone. The epicerie owner said they are happy for this day of American Independence as well because the American & Malagasy peoples have a partnership & hope to continue working together for many years to come. Barack Obama was also wished longevity and good health, which I said I would pass the message along to him.

Because I only arrived back to my site earlier in the day, and was walking around most of the daylight hours, 12 adults and at least 5 kids were now crammed into my small house, all of us sitting on my floor lit by candlelight eating the biscuits and apple cider. I played the National Anthem for them and talked about what most people in the US would be doing today. With every drop and crumb finished they thanked me collectively & wished me goodnight. My unusual but fulfilling Independence Day had come to a close, just my cat & I now staring at each other. I don't know how much of my stories or descriptions of the US & its customs will be remembered but I hope at some point in the future if they see an American Flag they will at least have some memory of that white girl who hung around speaking broken Malagasy but attempting to show respect of the Malagasy customs & providing even just a passing glance of the world of America and its culture. 

Oh what WOMEN can DO!

 Seamstress Training and Mosquito Bed Net Repair

The women in my village expressed interest in forming a seamstress group within the first month I arrived at site over a year ago. After IST I worked with my counterpart to organize a group with dedicated and reliable members who were interested in a self-sustaining group with a long-term goal, not simply interested in the activities of the "vazaha".
This group started with several interests: learning new farming techniques, weaving floor mats and forming a seamstress business. Establishing a constant and trusting membership has taken several months, with ups and downs in membership attendance, reshuffling the executive board and defining rules, however with reliability achieved, the women were ready to focus on a seamstress business.

Although many women in Madagascar know how to sew, very few can afford sewing machines to increase their level of skill beyond the basics. Through SPA funding, the women and I agreed on a project framework incorporating and addressing a concern all families in my village, in some way, have been affected by: Malaria. A ten day training was planned, daily lessons led by two guest seamstress trainers, partnering with the community health workers and neighboring Peace Corps Health Volunteers. Rules for the training and use of materials were decided upon by the women's group, emphasizing the shared ownership and responsibility of the sewing machines, not by the individual. Preperation of the agenda and logistics of the program were organized by me however, together, the executive board and I made the final decisions. I prepared business training lesson plans, while sitting with the women listening to the hum and clicks of the hand powered sewing machines busily working around me. Chatter and friendly banter insued, jokes and laughs exchanged around the room. The sense of commradery became tangible with each progressive afternoon. Seventeen of us sat on floor mats with scissors, thread, cloth and pens strewn about, only shutting the doors for the night as light faded behind the hills. The community health worker in my village and a neighboring health volunteer, joined the women's group to lead educational Malaria games and hold a Q & A session addressing myths about the disease. Proper mosquito net washing and hole repair (with implementation of both) were also part of the schedule. The training concluded with the women displaying the skirts, shirts, and pillowcases they had sewn with their newly acquired seamstress skills.

The first phase of the training complete, the women set out on the next phase. My small village was divided amongst the women, questionaires in hand about mosquito net use in each household. They exchanged an information sheet for the household's mosquito net, and sewed cloth on the bottom of one net per household making it stronger and increasing the longevity of the net. All holes in the net were also fixed by the women's group, educating each household on the importance of using a net, and washing and hanging it correctly. Follow-up visits will be done in another 6 months to see if behaviours have changed and corrected actions have been applied.

Besides the obvious new skills developed in this village, this women's group has now taken ownership of their now fully operating seamstress business. Their confidences were built further by participating in the Malaria parades at the end of April in neighboring towns, supported by several volunteers throughout the region. Volunteerism was emphasized within the group and explained to the community, calling on every person to protect one another from Malaria with the women's group taking the lead, mending and strengthening each mosquito net free of charge. Next order of business: sewing 30 outfits for the EPP student's Vingt Six Independence Day Celebration; the women are ready, machines are set, time to sew!

One year in Madagascar

One year in Madagascar- 

My strengths: comfortable with the way of life... Confident in my surroundings-whether finding my way around a 2 million person city like Tana-which I am no longer intimidated by- or a rural and painfully impoverished village.

Being a vazaha-I own it!  Still explaining to people who I am as Peace Corps with patience. Other volunteers tell me I am friendly w/ strangers and don't hesitate to strike up conversation with people whom other volunteers may ignore. This is important to me because maybe, just maybe that conversation could help to break the stereotype of a white person in this country. Contrary to beliefs in the 'back woods countryside' no we are not all the same. I would hate to be jaded & sour towards the Malagasy culture at the end of service. I say this because I've seen some volunteers who are.

I am more realistic about my expectations of what I can motivate people to do (ie small things, behavior change baby steps) & my role in Mada. I don't hold onto any grandious ideas that I will save the world, but try to stay grounded in the fact that I am leading my women's group, meeting by meeting, showing them that they can and should take charge of their lives. Financial security & independence is a very real possibility.

It could be the fact that I just finished training the new wave of trainees so I have a refreshed perspective on where I started out and how truly 'EFA zatra' I am (aka already used to/accustomed to). The life I have made myself here was reaffirmed- I am doing it, I'm really making it here! I have survived & even thrived, not without the days where I questioned everything but at the end of the day, month, and now 1 year-come out feeling on top. Looking forward to the next day & still trusting that each hour, even if it's painfully quiet and idle is worth it.

Here's to another year of struggles, shocks, unforgettable nights & cultural curiosity, exchange & appreciation-US & Malagasy.

The day I lost my watch

The best thing that could have happened to me!

Sept 3^rd, 2013

I didn’t even notice, as I walked under hanging branches, over fallen logs, and dodged vines along the rainforest trail, that I had lost it. The watch I had bought, only hours before leaving the US, from the DC drugstore, had found a new home amongst the dried leaf forest floor.

I spent the morning afterwards searching around my house but when I realized it was gone…my entire concept of times evaporated….and I almost felt free.

I spent the rest of the day creating a vertical garden out of 1.5 L empty plastic bottles. I become totally immersed and the children helped me throughout most of the day. Even when I got hungry, I made a quick snack and then was back at my construction. Even as the rain became a steady drizzle I continued my work; no longer pre-occupied with it being “time to start making lunch” or “only 2 hours until it’s dark, I better go on my daily stroll through the town so they know I’m interested in Malagasy life”.

It was so refreshing to not be concerned with what others may think or expect of me…which had been a discussion going on in my head for the past 3 months as I adjusted to life in Madagascar on my own. I think I am finally able to embrace my own life here, and that it does not revolve around others. Balancing work and rest but in the Malagasy lifestyle, is more and more natural with each passing day of my new life here. 

Circumcision Celebration - September 2013

Differences exist region to region – 4 hours north (in Manakara) there is a large celebration once every 7 yrs. But in my area, a family or group of families, will get together in order to pay for the Doctor to come to the town.

The first circumcision party I went to was in early September, but this was just kicking off the season! I went to the neighboring town with my Malagasy supervisor and his coworkers. We had missed the actual procedure, but the party was in full swing, lasting for 2 full days, ending on Sunday.

We greeted the president and important people of the town, and gave an envelope of money to them. This was called “atody ny akoho” or egg of a chicken. The amount dictates how much alcohol and food the hosts will provide for you. For example, today our donation of over 10,000 Ar dictated a 1.5 L bottle of rhum, bottle of beer, and bottle of Limonade (Bon Bon Anglais) with some plates of fried fish. The women beckoned me outside to dance to the blaring loud music, while the men sat in the small huts and talked and drank. The women’s excitement was let loose by the whoops and hollers that I received, and of course many wide-eyed stares.

Later this month, I attended a circumcision ceremony in my own town, 5 children were circumcised and all between the ages of 3 and 8 yrs old. Did I mention there is no anesthesia involved in the procedure?! The celebration began on a Thursday evening. A generator was brought and 3 light bulbs were strung up over the wooden frames built between a cluster of houses. I only danced a bit in the lit area, then was beckoned to join a group of women dancing in a house (when I say house I mean open floor with woven mat -no furniture- and cooking corner where ashes and a grill reside). We danced in a circle, and I greeted the leader of my town. Everyone was very faly “happy” and many extended family members where there and interested in who I was and what I did. The party raged all night.

The next morning the procedure was underway. I heard yells of “don’t be scared” chanted in unison by the women, which carried across town to me in my bed, at the early hour of 5am.

I visited around 7am, congratulating (shaking hands with the boys) and sharing coffee with the many people visiting. I danced a little and talked with people about the absence of this type of celebration in America until a fellow volunteer arrived. He had never seen this cultural celebration so he joined me in giving the traditional “atody ny akoho” and we danced with my neighbors and kids until the generator was turned off, as twilight approached.  

We retired to my house across town but the townspeople drank into the night, each small hut housing numerous guests.

The following weekend I was invited to a circumcision in the neighboring town south of my town. It was a large celebration, more money involved than what had occurred in my town. The surgery was done in Farafangana, the closest large town, and the celebration was carried out the next day.

Small paper invitations were distributed; I think I was invited as a courtesy, being the only white person for several kilometers. Four other people from my town were also invited to the home and hotely/epicerie owned by the wealthy family. I suggested we walk, leaving around 9am, taking us 1 1/2hrs to get there on foot.

We entered the house, gave the atody ny akoho” and then were led outside to a shaded table, next to the open dirt courtyard where many women were dancing within clouds of dust they were kicking up with each step. We were given soda, beer, and homemade moonshine (toka gasy). My table scanned the crowds and told me about the apparently well-known pastors and educators in attendance.

Being the only white person here, I was called out to the courtyard/dance floor by the local women, and danced with them briefly, as I didn’t know any of them. We watched processions of women enter the gated yard, holding a stick high for everyone to see the paper money that was attached to it. The women sang (or rather chanted, yipped and yelped) showing off the money they would give to the family. This I found out is called “maromanga” which translates to “a lot of blue”, and did not happen in my town. One group of women presented about 30.000 Ar and the other, 50.000 Ar (about). After entering the home of the family they exited with bottles of beer and bon bon Anglais (sweet soda) again singing and dancing in a circle throughout the courtyard.

The final circumcision party of the “season” that I attended was in my town, which translates to: a small affair. Three brothers underwent the procedure and the party lasted only one day.  I awoke at 4am to the calls of women running up and down the street for cold water…for the procedure I assumed. I congratulated and danced for only the morning, and other people visited but only briefly. People told me this family did not have enough money to throw a large party so that’s why it was so short and not many people hung around. The boys lay in a corner of the house with a crisp white sheet (showing it was purchased just for this occasion) draped over their spread legs. This was a shield against the flies and kept the naked boys covered but cool as the day warmed up. They were given biscuit crackers and women sat cooing over them, trying to make them as comfortable as possible.

From what I could gather from asking people in my town, this tradition is carried out to prevent disease, but I’m suspicious it may be a practice the French instilled in the Malagasy.

In other areas the uncle of the boy actually eats the foreskin once cut free. How glad I am that this is not a practice in my area!!