Saturday, January 22, 2011
First post of the New Year! And the 6-month anniversary of arriving here in Madagascar. New Year’s Eve was fantastic. Once again I was fortunate enough to be at the right place at the right time, which gave me the opportunity to jam with Malagasy musicians. Once again I just asked a guy playing a guitar if I could play and he enthusiastically thrust the instrument into my hands.
Back at site, I’ve been having a good time too. School’s back in session, which has been keeping me busy. I’ve also just had my first two sessions of English club (Wednesday evenings), which were a blast, but left me nearly deaf after multiple thunderous renditions of the ABC song. Friday’s I’ll be working with an anti-deforestation NGO and Saturdays I’ll be doing adult English classes for teachers and other professionals in Ambanja. And I just spoke with the owner of one of the city’s radio stations, and should be starting a weekly or bi-weekly program here soon. This year should fly by.
Right now I’m in a city called Antsohihy, which is a town at a major crossroads about 190 km south of Ambanja. I came down here to rendezvous with Jacob, Kaitlyn, and Lorin, but before I left Ambanja yesterday morning MPC told me I should stop in a small town called Befotaka (which means “lots of mud”) to meet up with my friend Momyne’s family. So, I stopped at this village in the middle of nowhere and was greeted by Momyne’s mom who introduced me to everyone as her son (I call Momyne my brother, ergo she is my mother). I walked around town with her and then took a tour of a Catholic mission with her brother before eating rice and crab sauce.
After lunch I broussed my way to Antsohihy, which is a bustling town at the intersection of several main roads. I’ll be heading back to Ambanja on Sunday. Until next time...
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Christmas Update
Friday, December 24, 2010 (Happy Christmas Eve!)
And not a creature was stirring… except for the rats in my ceiling…
It’s been a while since my last update. In-Service Training (IST) was great. It was really amazing to see all my training comrades again, but it’s tough accepting that we probably won’t all be together again until next September or October 2011.
Training went like this: we all arrived in Tana in waves December 9, 10, and 11. There was a blur of catching up and merrymaking, culminating in a holiday party hosted by the Regional Security Officer (RSO) at his big, beautiful apartment (complete with DJ, dance floor, pavilion-covered lawn, snacks, and open bar).
On Sunday, December 12 we were taken back to the Peace Corps Training Center (PCTC/Camp Peace Corps) in good ol’ Mantasoa. Everyday was filled with information sessions from after breakfast until dinner. Every evening was filled with more catching up and merrymaking. One of the days we were taken into town in Peace Corps cars for brief reunions with our host families. And then, suddenly, it was over.
We were taken back to Tana on Friday, December 17 and given a tour of the U.S. Embassy. Afterwards we were invited to swim in the U.S. Embassy pool. Quite nice. Once back at the Tana MEVA I found out that my flight back to Diego was scheduled for Monday, December 20, which gave me a few more days with friends.
That Saturday, after a fun morning at the market, Mama Peace Corps’ brother (a musician named Rabbi who lives in Tana) informed me that MPC had arrived in Tana via taxi brousse. He showed up at the MEVA and together we took a city brousse downtown. We then took a taxi up a mountain in the center of town to his sister Eliot’s house. I met Eliot and her adorable daughter Ariel. Then I was reunited with MPC. After a bit of catching up Rabbi showed me an awesome view of the city from a ledge near the house. I had to get back to the MEVA before dark, but I was told to come back the next day with friends to celebrate little Ariel’s 8th birthday.
So, the next morning I went on an excellent Antanarivo Adventure with Molly, Julie, and Paul Cook (follow along with the corresponding Facebook photo album). We got downtown in the midst of a hectic pre-Christmas market day. We then decided it would be more rewarding to hike up the mountain to Eliot’s house rather than take a taxi. I tried to lead us on a shortcut, but we ended up getting lost in backyards before being shown back to the main road.
Once we reached the top, we purchased beverages and then helped prepare food for a bit with the whole MPC family: MPC, Eliot, Rabbi and their mother, little Ariel, family friend Rosa, and my old pal Tsiky (MPC’s son who had come into Tana from university in Antsirabe). Eventually it was apparent that there were too many cooks in the kitchen (Eliot was convinced that Molly, Julie, Paul and I were helpless vazahas and that we’d severely maim ourselves in the process of cutting vegetables), so we went for a walk to check out the excellent view from the ledge.
In the middle of relaxation, I heard a most intriguing sound: live drumbeats. I immediately located the source: the Espace Mahatazana hotel, directly behind us. I left the others, probably without saying a word. I can’t remember. I was drawn to the noise like a moth to the light.
Entering the foyer, I met the maître d'hôtel who was excited that I spoke Malagasy. I told her I had heard the music and come running, so she took me up to a grand ballroom with tables set for a wedding reception. In the corner of the room was a raised platform with drum set, bass, electric guitar, and keyboard. The band was warming up. I rushed over.
They were also excited to hear me speak Malagasy. They asked if I preferred jazz, blues, or rock. I went with blues. The singer/guitarist blew me away with a soulful Malagasy 12-bar. At this point Molly, Julie, and Paul had joined me. When the band was done, the frontman asked if we wanted to come up and sing. No one volunteered, but I made known that I play guitar. He asked if I wanted to play. Was I dreaming?
I got up on stage and let loose with a blues song I wrote in Mantasoa, jamming with the bassist and drummer for a bit after running out of verses. It was incredible. Eliot came at this point to let us know food was ready. End jam session. I was in a euphoric stupor.
We stuffed ourselves with potato, beet and carrot salad, shredded mango and cucumber salad, turkey, fried dough chips (caca pigeon), homemade fruit juice, beer, soda, and cake. We tried to dance it off, but it took a walk back down the mountain to get feeling back into my outer extremities.
We said our goodbyes and took a city brousse back to the MEVA. That night I had a goodbye beer with Ryan F., Brianna, and Hilary. Shortly after getting inside the rickety beer hut, it started pouring. Water was streaming through cracks in the tin roof. We tried to wait it out for a while, but it was not letting up. Eventually the power went out, so we were forced to leave. None of us had umbrellas or raincoats. We ran back through the flooded streets in the dark while the rain came down in sheets. An epic ending to an already epic day.
I left early the next morning for the airport, and then flew to Diego…
I hung out in Diego for the evening before taking a painfully long brousse ride back down to Ambanja the day after that. I’ve been trying to readjust to the heat here since then.
Saturday, December 25, 2010 (Merry Christmas!)
What a splendid Christmas! I got to visit my friend Liza (a friend inherited from Dorothy) who just had a baby a few days ago. Both are doing well. But imagine my surprise yesterday when Liza’s friend Claudine told me that the baby still has no name and that Liza wants me draw up a list of popular American girl names. I brought the list to Liza this morning and she’s going to mull it over.
After that I helped Momyne and Anniece prepare our Christmas lunch: homemade flour tortillas with chili and rice; mac n cheese; and a plate of Oreos from the States. It was the ultimate comfort food feast.
The rest of the day was spent reading and sleeping off the meal until dinner when I had a jam session with the neighborhood drunkard. Now time for bed.
And not a creature was stirring… except for the rats in my ceiling…
It’s been a while since my last update. In-Service Training (IST) was great. It was really amazing to see all my training comrades again, but it’s tough accepting that we probably won’t all be together again until next September or October 2011.
Training went like this: we all arrived in Tana in waves December 9, 10, and 11. There was a blur of catching up and merrymaking, culminating in a holiday party hosted by the Regional Security Officer (RSO) at his big, beautiful apartment (complete with DJ, dance floor, pavilion-covered lawn, snacks, and open bar).
On Sunday, December 12 we were taken back to the Peace Corps Training Center (PCTC/Camp Peace Corps) in good ol’ Mantasoa. Everyday was filled with information sessions from after breakfast until dinner. Every evening was filled with more catching up and merrymaking. One of the days we were taken into town in Peace Corps cars for brief reunions with our host families. And then, suddenly, it was over.
We were taken back to Tana on Friday, December 17 and given a tour of the U.S. Embassy. Afterwards we were invited to swim in the U.S. Embassy pool. Quite nice. Once back at the Tana MEVA I found out that my flight back to Diego was scheduled for Monday, December 20, which gave me a few more days with friends.
That Saturday, after a fun morning at the market, Mama Peace Corps’ brother (a musician named Rabbi who lives in Tana) informed me that MPC had arrived in Tana via taxi brousse. He showed up at the MEVA and together we took a city brousse downtown. We then took a taxi up a mountain in the center of town to his sister Eliot’s house. I met Eliot and her adorable daughter Ariel. Then I was reunited with MPC. After a bit of catching up Rabbi showed me an awesome view of the city from a ledge near the house. I had to get back to the MEVA before dark, but I was told to come back the next day with friends to celebrate little Ariel’s 8th birthday.
So, the next morning I went on an excellent Antanarivo Adventure with Molly, Julie, and Paul Cook (follow along with the corresponding Facebook photo album). We got downtown in the midst of a hectic pre-Christmas market day. We then decided it would be more rewarding to hike up the mountain to Eliot’s house rather than take a taxi. I tried to lead us on a shortcut, but we ended up getting lost in backyards before being shown back to the main road.
Once we reached the top, we purchased beverages and then helped prepare food for a bit with the whole MPC family: MPC, Eliot, Rabbi and their mother, little Ariel, family friend Rosa, and my old pal Tsiky (MPC’s son who had come into Tana from university in Antsirabe). Eventually it was apparent that there were too many cooks in the kitchen (Eliot was convinced that Molly, Julie, Paul and I were helpless vazahas and that we’d severely maim ourselves in the process of cutting vegetables), so we went for a walk to check out the excellent view from the ledge.
In the middle of relaxation, I heard a most intriguing sound: live drumbeats. I immediately located the source: the Espace Mahatazana hotel, directly behind us. I left the others, probably without saying a word. I can’t remember. I was drawn to the noise like a moth to the light.
Entering the foyer, I met the maître d'hôtel who was excited that I spoke Malagasy. I told her I had heard the music and come running, so she took me up to a grand ballroom with tables set for a wedding reception. In the corner of the room was a raised platform with drum set, bass, electric guitar, and keyboard. The band was warming up. I rushed over.
They were also excited to hear me speak Malagasy. They asked if I preferred jazz, blues, or rock. I went with blues. The singer/guitarist blew me away with a soulful Malagasy 12-bar. At this point Molly, Julie, and Paul had joined me. When the band was done, the frontman asked if we wanted to come up and sing. No one volunteered, but I made known that I play guitar. He asked if I wanted to play. Was I dreaming?
I got up on stage and let loose with a blues song I wrote in Mantasoa, jamming with the bassist and drummer for a bit after running out of verses. It was incredible. Eliot came at this point to let us know food was ready. End jam session. I was in a euphoric stupor.
We stuffed ourselves with potato, beet and carrot salad, shredded mango and cucumber salad, turkey, fried dough chips (caca pigeon), homemade fruit juice, beer, soda, and cake. We tried to dance it off, but it took a walk back down the mountain to get feeling back into my outer extremities.
We said our goodbyes and took a city brousse back to the MEVA. That night I had a goodbye beer with Ryan F., Brianna, and Hilary. Shortly after getting inside the rickety beer hut, it started pouring. Water was streaming through cracks in the tin roof. We tried to wait it out for a while, but it was not letting up. Eventually the power went out, so we were forced to leave. None of us had umbrellas or raincoats. We ran back through the flooded streets in the dark while the rain came down in sheets. An epic ending to an already epic day.
I left early the next morning for the airport, and then flew to Diego…
I hung out in Diego for the evening before taking a painfully long brousse ride back down to Ambanja the day after that. I’ve been trying to readjust to the heat here since then.
Saturday, December 25, 2010 (Merry Christmas!)
What a splendid Christmas! I got to visit my friend Liza (a friend inherited from Dorothy) who just had a baby a few days ago. Both are doing well. But imagine my surprise yesterday when Liza’s friend Claudine told me that the baby still has no name and that Liza wants me draw up a list of popular American girl names. I brought the list to Liza this morning and she’s going to mull it over.
After that I helped Momyne and Anniece prepare our Christmas lunch: homemade flour tortillas with chili and rice; mac n cheese; and a plate of Oreos from the States. It was the ultimate comfort food feast.
The rest of the day was spent reading and sleeping off the meal until dinner when I had a jam session with the neighborhood drunkard. Now time for bed.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Rats and Dancing
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
I’m in Diego!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
I wasn’t planning to write an entry until I got to the Diego MEVA, but there has been quite a bit of excitement around here. Two words: rats and dancing.
Let me backtrack. While everyone was in Ambanja for Thanksgiving, it seemed apparent that an unwelcome rodent-like creature had visited my room while we were all at Mama PC’s for lunch. The evidence: Jonathan’s bag of mangos had been chewed open and one of the mangos had been partially eaten. However, there was no further evidence of foul play for the next few days.
While everyone was here, a few slept at a hotel, a few at Mama Peace Corps’ house, and Jason crashed with me. On Saturday night, he and I were both woken up by the sound of little rat feet and squeaks. The sounds seemed to be coming from inside the room, but I assumed they were just up in the ceiling. Since there were no visible sightings, we went back to sleep.
Once everyone had left Ambanja, I didn’t detect any rodent evidence for three days. I slept soundly. However, when I came home Wednesday evening I opened my closet to discover that a rat had chewed through both a Ziploc bag and the thick plastic Tupperware container within to get to my flour. It had also chewed up the end of two large rolls of paper and had left the remnants of the beginning of a nest in the corner of the bottom shelf. I cleared out the nest and put the chewed broken Tupperware container in my trash bag on the floor next to my bed.
That night I was in the middle of a deep sleep when I was awoken by the sound of something going through my trash bag. I turned on my headlamp and there it was: a big, brown rat going at the Tupperware container. I only got a quick glimpse, because as soon as I turned on my headlamp, it bolted under my bed, climbed up my guitar case and up an electrical cable to escape through the ventilation holes in the wall near the ceiling. This took a matter of seconds.
I was tired and went back to sleep, but was woken up again by the sound. This time I pulled up my mosquito net and hopped out of bed as I turned on my headlamp, and jumped over to grab my broom. However, the rat was already up the wall by the time I had my hand on the handle. I went over to my closet to see if it had revisited the original scene of the crime, and whattayaknow! Another rat shot out of the doors, through my legs and up the wall to freedom. I was stunned.
I opened my door and set my garbage bag outside. I moved my guitar case and table from away from the wall, hoping to prevent (or at least discourage) future rat entry. The measures seemed to have been a success.
On Thursday I got a surprise visit from Jason and Katie who came in to town to meet with the visiting Peace Corps Health Sector Director and doctors the next day.
So, while they had meetings, I ran a few errands: I got a haircut; I purchased blank CD’s to make copies of my song recordings; I didn’t bother waiting behind the mob of people at the bank; I mailed a letter at the post office; and I spent a few hours at the Lycee printing out 350 end-of-term exams on the good old ‘90s era Laserjet printer. Busy day. I felt very proud of my accomplishments, and I met Jason and Katie who had good news of their own: they can now work at the health clinic here in Ambanja, so we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other over the next two years.
The three of us were in great spirits when we went over to Mama Peace Corps’ in the evening. I had been told earlier in the week that there was some type of event happening in Ambanja to welcome the new Chef CISCO. I figured it would be a meeting at someone’s house. However, Mama knew otherwise. She told me it was a big meeting with drinking and dancing, and all the teachers in Ambanja were going, including herself.
So, since that event was already on my schedule for the night, Jason and Katie decided to tag along. We walked up the main road a bit and came to a giant concrete building behind the Catholic church. We heard a speech being blasted out of loudspeakers and thunderous applause. We walked into the hall to see the Chef CISCO with a microphone on stage and hundreds of teachers sitting at tables drinking and eating picnic dinners. We were late.
Well, it’s a big deal just to see a white person walking down the street here, so you can imagine how crazy the crowd got to see three white people walk across the dance hall to our table in the middle of a Malagasy teacher’s conference/dance party.
Eventually the speech finished and the music started blaring. A few people got up and danced, but after a conga line dance, almost everyone sat down. Eventually Mama PC decided it was time to make her move. When Jerry Marcos came on she got up started dancing in the middle of the dance floor. There was only about a half dozen other people. She motioned for us to join her, expecting others to follow suit. Well, rather than starting a mass movement to the dance floor, we became a spectacle for the hundreds of teachers that remained in their seats. But it was damn fun.
The next day was set to be pretty uneventful, but I was looking forward to meeting with the director of an environment NGO in the afternoon. It turned out to be well worth the wait. The NGO is financed by Germany, but run by Malagasy staff who work directly with Malagasy communities to combat/prevent erosion caused by deforestation.
The director, Andry, is from Antananarivo, and he used to work for the World Wildlife Fund (WWF). While there, he learned to speak English remarkably well, but he’d like to continue practicing. What makes him different from the dozens of people that come by wanting private English lessons at my house is that he doesn’t want private English lessons at my house. He’d like to set up an English workshop for his colleagues at their office facility.
That certainly sounds worthwhile: it’s a legitimate organization (rather than the shady men who come by wanting to learn English because they want an American girlfriend); I could teach more than one person at a time (all the people asking for private lessons can’t comprehend why it’s not ok to just teach them and exclude everyone else); and he will provide the meeting place (as opposed to knocking at my door at all hours of the day).
He took me on a tour of the facility, showing me models of techniques to prevent erosion into farmland, maps of reforestation projects, and a peanut garden planted on a special type of plant that serves as topsoil.
After the tour I interviewed him, and then we practiced English for a while. Eventually he asked if I’d like to grab a drink. I said sure, but it was getting late and I’d need to put on bug spray or else I’d get eaten alive my mosquitoes. So he waited for me while I hurried down the road to my house. I swung open my door, and who was looking back at me from on top of the wooden frame for my mosquito net? You guessed it: a big brown rat. I charged at it, but it escaped with a flying leap toward the ventilation holes in the wall. I did a sweep of the room and my closet, and there was no sign of another rat lurking about.
I was in such good spirits that it didn’t really matter. I went back to meet Andry and we grabbed fries and a beer and I answered questions about the structure of the U.S. government. When I walked back, I swung by Mama PC’s. Momyne was around, and he wanted to come over for a bit. I told him there was a very real possibility that we’d encounter a rat, so he’d better be ready.
[Warning: graphic descriptions ahead]
Sure enough, as soon as I opened the door, Mr. “I Chew On All of Josh’s Stuff” was waiting. The next few minutes were chaos. Momyne grabbed my broom, and I grabbed Dorothy’s rat killing stick. Momyne knocked the rat off the mosquito net frame. It scurried around the floor under the bed. We frantically chased it around the room, trying to flush it out from under the bed, and then the table and then my work desk. It kept going into my closet, and we’d flush it out of there, but it was just too darn quick. It would dart between our legs and back under something else. Finally, it scurried up the mosquito net frame again and Momyne knocked it onto the top of the mosquito net.
Now, there was a giant piece of plastic wrapping material on top of the mosquito net that had once been vacuum-sealed around my mattress. I kept this giant piece of plastic because I knew my roof leaked and that rainy season was coming. Things just might need to be covered by giant plastic wrapping material.
Or… a rat might need to be strangled to death with Momyne’s bare hands!
Yep, you read correctly. In a flash, Momyne grabbed the plastic around the rat and held on until the rat stopped twitching. He then hit it in the head a few times with the broom handle to make sure it was dead. Out on my front porch I stabbed it in the head with Dorothy’s rat killing stick. Twice now has it drawn rodent blood.
Quite the excitement. Things should slow down a bit now. Tomorrow and Tuesday I’ll be testing. I’ll have to grade everything before Wednesday morning, because that’s when Katie and I will be hopping on a brousse to go to Diego. I fly to Tana on Thursday for a week of In-Service Training (IST).
I’m in Diego!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
I wasn’t planning to write an entry until I got to the Diego MEVA, but there has been quite a bit of excitement around here. Two words: rats and dancing.
Let me backtrack. While everyone was in Ambanja for Thanksgiving, it seemed apparent that an unwelcome rodent-like creature had visited my room while we were all at Mama PC’s for lunch. The evidence: Jonathan’s bag of mangos had been chewed open and one of the mangos had been partially eaten. However, there was no further evidence of foul play for the next few days.
While everyone was here, a few slept at a hotel, a few at Mama Peace Corps’ house, and Jason crashed with me. On Saturday night, he and I were both woken up by the sound of little rat feet and squeaks. The sounds seemed to be coming from inside the room, but I assumed they were just up in the ceiling. Since there were no visible sightings, we went back to sleep.
Once everyone had left Ambanja, I didn’t detect any rodent evidence for three days. I slept soundly. However, when I came home Wednesday evening I opened my closet to discover that a rat had chewed through both a Ziploc bag and the thick plastic Tupperware container within to get to my flour. It had also chewed up the end of two large rolls of paper and had left the remnants of the beginning of a nest in the corner of the bottom shelf. I cleared out the nest and put the chewed broken Tupperware container in my trash bag on the floor next to my bed.
That night I was in the middle of a deep sleep when I was awoken by the sound of something going through my trash bag. I turned on my headlamp and there it was: a big, brown rat going at the Tupperware container. I only got a quick glimpse, because as soon as I turned on my headlamp, it bolted under my bed, climbed up my guitar case and up an electrical cable to escape through the ventilation holes in the wall near the ceiling. This took a matter of seconds.
I was tired and went back to sleep, but was woken up again by the sound. This time I pulled up my mosquito net and hopped out of bed as I turned on my headlamp, and jumped over to grab my broom. However, the rat was already up the wall by the time I had my hand on the handle. I went over to my closet to see if it had revisited the original scene of the crime, and whattayaknow! Another rat shot out of the doors, through my legs and up the wall to freedom. I was stunned.
I opened my door and set my garbage bag outside. I moved my guitar case and table from away from the wall, hoping to prevent (or at least discourage) future rat entry. The measures seemed to have been a success.
On Thursday I got a surprise visit from Jason and Katie who came in to town to meet with the visiting Peace Corps Health Sector Director and doctors the next day.
So, while they had meetings, I ran a few errands: I got a haircut; I purchased blank CD’s to make copies of my song recordings; I didn’t bother waiting behind the mob of people at the bank; I mailed a letter at the post office; and I spent a few hours at the Lycee printing out 350 end-of-term exams on the good old ‘90s era Laserjet printer. Busy day. I felt very proud of my accomplishments, and I met Jason and Katie who had good news of their own: they can now work at the health clinic here in Ambanja, so we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other over the next two years.
The three of us were in great spirits when we went over to Mama Peace Corps’ in the evening. I had been told earlier in the week that there was some type of event happening in Ambanja to welcome the new Chef CISCO. I figured it would be a meeting at someone’s house. However, Mama knew otherwise. She told me it was a big meeting with drinking and dancing, and all the teachers in Ambanja were going, including herself.
So, since that event was already on my schedule for the night, Jason and Katie decided to tag along. We walked up the main road a bit and came to a giant concrete building behind the Catholic church. We heard a speech being blasted out of loudspeakers and thunderous applause. We walked into the hall to see the Chef CISCO with a microphone on stage and hundreds of teachers sitting at tables drinking and eating picnic dinners. We were late.
Well, it’s a big deal just to see a white person walking down the street here, so you can imagine how crazy the crowd got to see three white people walk across the dance hall to our table in the middle of a Malagasy teacher’s conference/dance party.
Eventually the speech finished and the music started blaring. A few people got up and danced, but after a conga line dance, almost everyone sat down. Eventually Mama PC decided it was time to make her move. When Jerry Marcos came on she got up started dancing in the middle of the dance floor. There was only about a half dozen other people. She motioned for us to join her, expecting others to follow suit. Well, rather than starting a mass movement to the dance floor, we became a spectacle for the hundreds of teachers that remained in their seats. But it was damn fun.
The next day was set to be pretty uneventful, but I was looking forward to meeting with the director of an environment NGO in the afternoon. It turned out to be well worth the wait. The NGO is financed by Germany, but run by Malagasy staff who work directly with Malagasy communities to combat/prevent erosion caused by deforestation.
The director, Andry, is from Antananarivo, and he used to work for the World Wildlife Fund (WWF). While there, he learned to speak English remarkably well, but he’d like to continue practicing. What makes him different from the dozens of people that come by wanting private English lessons at my house is that he doesn’t want private English lessons at my house. He’d like to set up an English workshop for his colleagues at their office facility.
That certainly sounds worthwhile: it’s a legitimate organization (rather than the shady men who come by wanting to learn English because they want an American girlfriend); I could teach more than one person at a time (all the people asking for private lessons can’t comprehend why it’s not ok to just teach them and exclude everyone else); and he will provide the meeting place (as opposed to knocking at my door at all hours of the day).
He took me on a tour of the facility, showing me models of techniques to prevent erosion into farmland, maps of reforestation projects, and a peanut garden planted on a special type of plant that serves as topsoil.
After the tour I interviewed him, and then we practiced English for a while. Eventually he asked if I’d like to grab a drink. I said sure, but it was getting late and I’d need to put on bug spray or else I’d get eaten alive my mosquitoes. So he waited for me while I hurried down the road to my house. I swung open my door, and who was looking back at me from on top of the wooden frame for my mosquito net? You guessed it: a big brown rat. I charged at it, but it escaped with a flying leap toward the ventilation holes in the wall. I did a sweep of the room and my closet, and there was no sign of another rat lurking about.
I was in such good spirits that it didn’t really matter. I went back to meet Andry and we grabbed fries and a beer and I answered questions about the structure of the U.S. government. When I walked back, I swung by Mama PC’s. Momyne was around, and he wanted to come over for a bit. I told him there was a very real possibility that we’d encounter a rat, so he’d better be ready.
[Warning: graphic descriptions ahead]
Sure enough, as soon as I opened the door, Mr. “I Chew On All of Josh’s Stuff” was waiting. The next few minutes were chaos. Momyne grabbed my broom, and I grabbed Dorothy’s rat killing stick. Momyne knocked the rat off the mosquito net frame. It scurried around the floor under the bed. We frantically chased it around the room, trying to flush it out from under the bed, and then the table and then my work desk. It kept going into my closet, and we’d flush it out of there, but it was just too darn quick. It would dart between our legs and back under something else. Finally, it scurried up the mosquito net frame again and Momyne knocked it onto the top of the mosquito net.
Now, there was a giant piece of plastic wrapping material on top of the mosquito net that had once been vacuum-sealed around my mattress. I kept this giant piece of plastic because I knew my roof leaked and that rainy season was coming. Things just might need to be covered by giant plastic wrapping material.
Or… a rat might need to be strangled to death with Momyne’s bare hands!
Yep, you read correctly. In a flash, Momyne grabbed the plastic around the rat and held on until the rat stopped twitching. He then hit it in the head a few times with the broom handle to make sure it was dead. Out on my front porch I stabbed it in the head with Dorothy’s rat killing stick. Twice now has it drawn rodent blood.
Quite the excitement. Things should slow down a bit now. Tomorrow and Tuesday I’ll be testing. I’ll have to grade everything before Wednesday morning, because that’s when Katie and I will be hopping on a brousse to go to Diego. I fly to Tana on Thursday for a week of In-Service Training (IST).
Monday, November 29, 2010
Thanksgiving and a German
Monday, November 29, 2010
So, the political situation described in my last post turned out to be nothing after all (as far as I know). Forces loyal to Andry Rajoelina stormed Ivato and arrested the mutinying military officers. Everything is back to “normal.”
This has been a good week. All the volunteers around Ambanja came in for Thanksgiving. I had to teach in the morning and evening on Thursday, but was able to get out of the latter. We had planned to buy a turkey, but that fell through. We then considered buying the materials necessary to make Mexican food (beans, rice, peppers, and flour can all be found here), but then decided it would be easier to eat vazaha food at the classy Palma Nova restaurant (which I described a few posts back).
Friday we all took a taxi-brousse to Ankify beach, picking up PCV Molly (who came in from her site on the island Nosy Be via ferry) along the way. So, in total 8 Peace Corps volunteers and 3 Malagasy friends hung out on the beach all day to celebrate Thanksgiving. I brought my guitar, Katie brought her excellent portable speakers, and we all swam and relaxed until the sun began to set.
People returned to their sites in waves on Saturday and Sunday. While some of them relaxed at my house on Saturday, I went with my Malagasy friend Anthony to his uncle’s house. Anthony had told me that his uncle was a German expat living here in Ambanja, married to his mother’s sister. He also told me this German man had an electric guitar, drum set, keyboard, harmonica, and a plethora of djembes.
I took my guitar and walked with Anthony for about half a km to the market. He said his uncle’s house was just a little bit past the market. The common Malagasy response to questions about location here in Ambanja is taloha (which means “before” or “up ahead”).
I knew the house might not be so close, but it was still quite an unpleasant trek. I trudged along for an hour on the shade-less dirt road, my legs pretty burnt from the beach the day before. When we arrived, we were greeted by Anthony’s aunt and led into the house.
His uncle was a stout, white-haired, gray-bearded bespectacled man. He was quite friendly, but the language barrier was a bit awkward. He (obviously) spoke German fluently, as well as French, and a little Malagasy, and could understand slow English. I spoke in English, Malagasy, and terrible French, and he responded in French, Malagasy, and broken English.
We discussed the beauty of Madagascar and the plight of its people and its environment. I explained the concept of Peace Corps, and he explained that in his opinion Madagascar just needed more money. To each his own.
Unfortunately, Anthony had not informed him that I was coming over (not a big surprise—my experience has been that Malagasy people tend to show up and leave without much notice) and had to leave before we could play music, but I did see his extensive djembe collection. I would be extremely pleased if he also possessed the alleged electric guitar and drum set.
So Anthony and I made the trek back to my house and I played guitar there.
On Sunday I had to grade more papers of students whose first try was, let’s say, less than satisfactory, whether that meant completely ignoring the extremely explicit directions, or shamelessly copying their friend’s assignments.
We learned in training that while cheating is seen as wrong here, it is culturally acceptable for Malagasy teachers to ignore it when it happens. Nevertheless, it was still shocking to see it practiced so blatantly.
I’m currently in the process of making my end-of-trimester test, which I will administer next Monday and Tuesday. I can imagine how fun it will be to try to prevent 70 students, crammed into small desks and practically sitting on one another’s laps, from copying.
As far as I know, I leave for Diego next Wednesday, December 8 and then fly to Tana on Thursday, December 9. Then I’m re-united with all my friends from pre-service training (PST) for a week of in-service training (IST). I can’t wait!
So, the political situation described in my last post turned out to be nothing after all (as far as I know). Forces loyal to Andry Rajoelina stormed Ivato and arrested the mutinying military officers. Everything is back to “normal.”
This has been a good week. All the volunteers around Ambanja came in for Thanksgiving. I had to teach in the morning and evening on Thursday, but was able to get out of the latter. We had planned to buy a turkey, but that fell through. We then considered buying the materials necessary to make Mexican food (beans, rice, peppers, and flour can all be found here), but then decided it would be easier to eat vazaha food at the classy Palma Nova restaurant (which I described a few posts back).
Friday we all took a taxi-brousse to Ankify beach, picking up PCV Molly (who came in from her site on the island Nosy Be via ferry) along the way. So, in total 8 Peace Corps volunteers and 3 Malagasy friends hung out on the beach all day to celebrate Thanksgiving. I brought my guitar, Katie brought her excellent portable speakers, and we all swam and relaxed until the sun began to set.
People returned to their sites in waves on Saturday and Sunday. While some of them relaxed at my house on Saturday, I went with my Malagasy friend Anthony to his uncle’s house. Anthony had told me that his uncle was a German expat living here in Ambanja, married to his mother’s sister. He also told me this German man had an electric guitar, drum set, keyboard, harmonica, and a plethora of djembes.
I took my guitar and walked with Anthony for about half a km to the market. He said his uncle’s house was just a little bit past the market. The common Malagasy response to questions about location here in Ambanja is taloha (which means “before” or “up ahead”).
I knew the house might not be so close, but it was still quite an unpleasant trek. I trudged along for an hour on the shade-less dirt road, my legs pretty burnt from the beach the day before. When we arrived, we were greeted by Anthony’s aunt and led into the house.
His uncle was a stout, white-haired, gray-bearded bespectacled man. He was quite friendly, but the language barrier was a bit awkward. He (obviously) spoke German fluently, as well as French, and a little Malagasy, and could understand slow English. I spoke in English, Malagasy, and terrible French, and he responded in French, Malagasy, and broken English.
We discussed the beauty of Madagascar and the plight of its people and its environment. I explained the concept of Peace Corps, and he explained that in his opinion Madagascar just needed more money. To each his own.
Unfortunately, Anthony had not informed him that I was coming over (not a big surprise—my experience has been that Malagasy people tend to show up and leave without much notice) and had to leave before we could play music, but I did see his extensive djembe collection. I would be extremely pleased if he also possessed the alleged electric guitar and drum set.
So Anthony and I made the trek back to my house and I played guitar there.
On Sunday I had to grade more papers of students whose first try was, let’s say, less than satisfactory, whether that meant completely ignoring the extremely explicit directions, or shamelessly copying their friend’s assignments.
We learned in training that while cheating is seen as wrong here, it is culturally acceptable for Malagasy teachers to ignore it when it happens. Nevertheless, it was still shocking to see it practiced so blatantly.
I’m currently in the process of making my end-of-trimester test, which I will administer next Monday and Tuesday. I can imagine how fun it will be to try to prevent 70 students, crammed into small desks and practically sitting on one another’s laps, from copying.
As far as I know, I leave for Diego next Wednesday, December 8 and then fly to Tana on Thursday, December 9. Then I’m re-united with all my friends from pre-service training (PST) for a week of in-service training (IST). I can’t wait!
Friday, November 19, 2010
It's Probably Nothing
Friday, November 19, 2010
I don’t really know what to write. I’ve been bombarded with news from many sources (parents, fellow volunteers’ families, Mama Peace Corps’ relatives who live in Antananarivo). From what I’ve pieced together, there are some military officers holed up near the airport in Ivato, an area in the capital city, Antananarivo. They’ve been there since Wednesday, when there was a referendum on a new constitution. The changes to the constitution, which include changing the minimum age to serve as president from 40 to 35, are supported by the current transitional president, Andry Rajoelina, who is 36.
Mr. Rajoelina took power with support of the military in early 2009, replacing the democratically elected Marc Ravolomanana. Now, the same military officers that brought him to power have declared themselves in charge of the country. However, Andry Rajoelina says he is still running things. There seems to be no report of any violence or deaths in the capital. The military is huffing and puffing about disrupting Madagascar’s airspace, which could be a major problem, but as of yet, it seems to be nothing more than talk. Here in Ambanja, Tana could have been swallowed by the earth and no one would have noticed.
Peace Corps has given us one instruction: standfast. This means if major problems do develop, we should be prepared for consolidation. So, we wait. I’ve got 300 papers to grade. I want to know if I’ll need to be packing up any time soon.
One major bummer about this “standfast” situation is that we aren’t allowed to leave our sites for anything except a medical emergency. If they keep us on “standfast” through Thursday, no one will be able to come here to Ambanja to celebrate Thanksgiving. Mampalahelo (makes me sad).
That being said, it's probably nothing and it will all blow over soon. Here's hoping I'm right.
I don’t really know what to write. I’ve been bombarded with news from many sources (parents, fellow volunteers’ families, Mama Peace Corps’ relatives who live in Antananarivo). From what I’ve pieced together, there are some military officers holed up near the airport in Ivato, an area in the capital city, Antananarivo. They’ve been there since Wednesday, when there was a referendum on a new constitution. The changes to the constitution, which include changing the minimum age to serve as president from 40 to 35, are supported by the current transitional president, Andry Rajoelina, who is 36.
Mr. Rajoelina took power with support of the military in early 2009, replacing the democratically elected Marc Ravolomanana. Now, the same military officers that brought him to power have declared themselves in charge of the country. However, Andry Rajoelina says he is still running things. There seems to be no report of any violence or deaths in the capital. The military is huffing and puffing about disrupting Madagascar’s airspace, which could be a major problem, but as of yet, it seems to be nothing more than talk. Here in Ambanja, Tana could have been swallowed by the earth and no one would have noticed.
Peace Corps has given us one instruction: standfast. This means if major problems do develop, we should be prepared for consolidation. So, we wait. I’ve got 300 papers to grade. I want to know if I’ll need to be packing up any time soon.
One major bummer about this “standfast” situation is that we aren’t allowed to leave our sites for anything except a medical emergency. If they keep us on “standfast” through Thursday, no one will be able to come here to Ambanja to celebrate Thanksgiving. Mampalahelo (makes me sad).
That being said, it's probably nothing and it will all blow over soon. Here's hoping I'm right.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Rural Meets Urban
Friday, November 12, 2010
This week I’ve had a few battles with nature and semi-domesticated animals.
Part I: Rain and Ants
Last Saturday the heavens came crashing down. I’ve never been in the presence of so much rain in my life. I couldn’t hear anything but a deafening roar as the earth’s entire supply of freshwater came hammering down on my tin roof. After about two hours, it suddenly stopped. I was amazed. We don’t get summer storms like that in California.
The next morning I was groggily making myself some eggs and a pot of coffee when I noticed a few ants on my table. As I brushed them off I looked up at the wall and nearly had a heart attack: the wall was black, and it was moving. An entire colony of ants was making its way from my ceiling to a window on the opposite side of the room.
I ate and cleaned everything quickly and swept away any ants who thought it would be a good idea to explore the floor of my domicile. I then went to the general store with Momyne to buy some ant spray.
When I returned, the ant colony had departed. A few stragglers decided to stay behind and frantically run around my windowsill. Their dilatory behavior was rewarded with a quick spray of Attack: Multi-purpose Insect Killer.
Part II: Chickens and Goats
The rest of the week was pretty normal. I taught “Making Requests” and “Indirect vs. Direct Objects.” The class thoroughly enjoyed acting out a dialogue in which they asked, “May I dance with you?” Most chose to respond with a firm and succinct “No!” but occasionally a few were bold enough to try “I’m sorry, but I would prefer not to dance with you.”
On Monday a chicken wandered into my house while I was reading and proceeded to make a big fuss about jumping up and down on my trunk under my desk. I shooed it away easily enough, but it was amusing. This whole “rural meets urban” theme here in Ambanja is always pretty fun.
For example, there is a fairly busy dirt road that I can see from front door right now. A moped just went by, followed by a bicycle and a taxi. However, just a few minutes ago several ox-carts rolled past.
Also, at Mama Peace Corps’ house dinner is made by lighting a fire and burning charcoal, and the kitchen is often lit by candlelight since the power goes out most evenings. But while this cooking is going on, Momyne’s cell phone is blasting music that he transferred to his phone’s memory card via Bluetooth.
And then there was the kid goat that walked into my house and almost chewed the power cord to my laptop (I was also able to shoo it away without any trouble). Not a dull moment around here.
Jonathan arrived in Ambanja last night for some business and should be leaving Sunday. Katie and Jason should be stopping by tomorrow and leaving Sunday as well. We’ll probably watch movies on my computer while geckos watch from the walls (and maybe a goat or a chicken will join us too).
This week I’ve had a few battles with nature and semi-domesticated animals.
Part I: Rain and Ants
Last Saturday the heavens came crashing down. I’ve never been in the presence of so much rain in my life. I couldn’t hear anything but a deafening roar as the earth’s entire supply of freshwater came hammering down on my tin roof. After about two hours, it suddenly stopped. I was amazed. We don’t get summer storms like that in California.
The next morning I was groggily making myself some eggs and a pot of coffee when I noticed a few ants on my table. As I brushed them off I looked up at the wall and nearly had a heart attack: the wall was black, and it was moving. An entire colony of ants was making its way from my ceiling to a window on the opposite side of the room.
I ate and cleaned everything quickly and swept away any ants who thought it would be a good idea to explore the floor of my domicile. I then went to the general store with Momyne to buy some ant spray.
When I returned, the ant colony had departed. A few stragglers decided to stay behind and frantically run around my windowsill. Their dilatory behavior was rewarded with a quick spray of Attack: Multi-purpose Insect Killer.
Part II: Chickens and Goats
The rest of the week was pretty normal. I taught “Making Requests” and “Indirect vs. Direct Objects.” The class thoroughly enjoyed acting out a dialogue in which they asked, “May I dance with you?” Most chose to respond with a firm and succinct “No!” but occasionally a few were bold enough to try “I’m sorry, but I would prefer not to dance with you.”
On Monday a chicken wandered into my house while I was reading and proceeded to make a big fuss about jumping up and down on my trunk under my desk. I shooed it away easily enough, but it was amusing. This whole “rural meets urban” theme here in Ambanja is always pretty fun.
For example, there is a fairly busy dirt road that I can see from front door right now. A moped just went by, followed by a bicycle and a taxi. However, just a few minutes ago several ox-carts rolled past.
Also, at Mama Peace Corps’ house dinner is made by lighting a fire and burning charcoal, and the kitchen is often lit by candlelight since the power goes out most evenings. But while this cooking is going on, Momyne’s cell phone is blasting music that he transferred to his phone’s memory card via Bluetooth.
And then there was the kid goat that walked into my house and almost chewed the power cord to my laptop (I was also able to shoo it away without any trouble). Not a dull moment around here.
Jonathan arrived in Ambanja last night for some business and should be leaving Sunday. Katie and Jason should be stopping by tomorrow and leaving Sunday as well. We’ll probably watch movies on my computer while geckos watch from the walls (and maybe a goat or a chicken will join us too).
Friday, November 5, 2010
Chef CISCO Vaovao
Thursday, November 4, 2010
The Giants won the World Series! It took me going to the opposite side of the world, but hey, it works for me.
It’s been an interesting week. Monday and Tuesday there was no school, I believe because of All Saints’ Day, although no one actually told me. Mama Peace Corps just told me it was a holiday, and I called up the proviseur, and sure enough he told me there was no class (I would have shown up at school if I hadn’t called him).
So my pacing was already thrown off because of this holiday situation, and then I showed up at school on Wednesday and discovered that all classes except my English classes were cancelled because there was a new Chef CISCO with whom all the Malagasy teachers needed to meet (CISCO stands for Circumscription Scolaire, and it’s just the school district; the Chef CISCO is the head of the school district, like a superintendent; and it’s French, so Chef=Chief—he doesn’t prepare food). So my students had to watch all their friends go home while they stayed for a lesson on the “present perfect” tense. Lots of fun. They were already ahead of the sections that didn’t have class on Monday or Tuesday, so I let them out early.
So, there’s a new Chef in town. I don’t know why I forgot this in my last post, but there was a protest in my front lawn a week ago. I was getting ready to go to class and a car pulled up in front of the CISCO office (where I live), blasting Malagasy music. It was followed by dozens of protestors carrying signs, apparently calling for the Chef CISCO’s resignation. I guess their protesting worked.
Today when I showed up to teach my evening class, I put my bike in the teacher’s lounge as usual, but found all the other Malagasy teachers sitting in rows of chairs ready for a meeting. The proviseur saw me and told me the new Chef CISCO was coming for an important discussion. I taught from 4:30 – 5:30, after which I found all the teachers still in the lounge, drinking beer and soda and talking to the new Chef CISCO and his wife. I left after introductions.
I don’t know what this new Chef CISCO business will mean for me and my life, except that I think the old Chef will eventually be moving out of his house, which is in the building next to mine. He’s always been pretty standoffish, so I don’t think I’ll miss him much. However, his two little children are pretty adorable and dance whenever I play guitar, so I’ll miss them.
I also don’t know why I forgot this in my last post, Mama Peace Corps’ son, Tsiky, is no longer living in Ambanja. He has left for university in Antsirabe, which is awesome, because from what I’ve observed, not many people here even pass the Baccalaureate (the test to graduate from Lycee). However, he had become a very good friend, so I’ll miss him quite a bit. His friend Momyne, also just a few years younger than me, is now living with Mama Peace Corps while he studies to take the Bacc himself. I’ve been tutoring him with English, but it’s made me sad because he’s supposed to be at the Terminale level, and he’s grossly underprepared for the test.
In other news, I made an ice-blended café latte today. Let me backtrack: Mama Peace Corps is an entrepreneur. She has electricity, so she invested in freezers. In the evenings after work she makes delicious, sugary, whole-milk yogurt and puts it in little re-usable plastic cups with lids. She puts those cups in the freezer, and, presto: frozen yogurt. Men come by with coolers and sell the frozen yogurt cups on the street and at the market. I decided it would be cool to mix coffee and the frozen yogurt in the cups. I thought it tasted pretty good on a hot day.
Food is very important to me, as anyone reading this blog may have guessed. One of the first things Peace Corps has done for my personal development is given me a new appreciation for food, especially for the variety of food available back home. In the U.S., I was faced with choosing from among over a dozen varieties of peanut butter. Here, if I want peanut butter, I need to roast the peanuts and spend about half an hour smashing them with a giant mortar and pestle. Another huge difference is the lack of cheese here. For those reading in the States, try to go through every meal and subtract the cheese. It makes things a lot less delicious. Needless to say, I get a lot more joy out of little things, like iced coffee with real milk.
The Giants won the World Series! It took me going to the opposite side of the world, but hey, it works for me.
It’s been an interesting week. Monday and Tuesday there was no school, I believe because of All Saints’ Day, although no one actually told me. Mama Peace Corps just told me it was a holiday, and I called up the proviseur, and sure enough he told me there was no class (I would have shown up at school if I hadn’t called him).
So my pacing was already thrown off because of this holiday situation, and then I showed up at school on Wednesday and discovered that all classes except my English classes were cancelled because there was a new Chef CISCO with whom all the Malagasy teachers needed to meet (CISCO stands for Circumscription Scolaire, and it’s just the school district; the Chef CISCO is the head of the school district, like a superintendent; and it’s French, so Chef=Chief—he doesn’t prepare food). So my students had to watch all their friends go home while they stayed for a lesson on the “present perfect” tense. Lots of fun. They were already ahead of the sections that didn’t have class on Monday or Tuesday, so I let them out early.
So, there’s a new Chef in town. I don’t know why I forgot this in my last post, but there was a protest in my front lawn a week ago. I was getting ready to go to class and a car pulled up in front of the CISCO office (where I live), blasting Malagasy music. It was followed by dozens of protestors carrying signs, apparently calling for the Chef CISCO’s resignation. I guess their protesting worked.
Today when I showed up to teach my evening class, I put my bike in the teacher’s lounge as usual, but found all the other Malagasy teachers sitting in rows of chairs ready for a meeting. The proviseur saw me and told me the new Chef CISCO was coming for an important discussion. I taught from 4:30 – 5:30, after which I found all the teachers still in the lounge, drinking beer and soda and talking to the new Chef CISCO and his wife. I left after introductions.
I don’t know what this new Chef CISCO business will mean for me and my life, except that I think the old Chef will eventually be moving out of his house, which is in the building next to mine. He’s always been pretty standoffish, so I don’t think I’ll miss him much. However, his two little children are pretty adorable and dance whenever I play guitar, so I’ll miss them.
I also don’t know why I forgot this in my last post, Mama Peace Corps’ son, Tsiky, is no longer living in Ambanja. He has left for university in Antsirabe, which is awesome, because from what I’ve observed, not many people here even pass the Baccalaureate (the test to graduate from Lycee). However, he had become a very good friend, so I’ll miss him quite a bit. His friend Momyne, also just a few years younger than me, is now living with Mama Peace Corps while he studies to take the Bacc himself. I’ve been tutoring him with English, but it’s made me sad because he’s supposed to be at the Terminale level, and he’s grossly underprepared for the test.
In other news, I made an ice-blended café latte today. Let me backtrack: Mama Peace Corps is an entrepreneur. She has electricity, so she invested in freezers. In the evenings after work she makes delicious, sugary, whole-milk yogurt and puts it in little re-usable plastic cups with lids. She puts those cups in the freezer, and, presto: frozen yogurt. Men come by with coolers and sell the frozen yogurt cups on the street and at the market. I decided it would be cool to mix coffee and the frozen yogurt in the cups. I thought it tasted pretty good on a hot day.
Food is very important to me, as anyone reading this blog may have guessed. One of the first things Peace Corps has done for my personal development is given me a new appreciation for food, especially for the variety of food available back home. In the U.S., I was faced with choosing from among over a dozen varieties of peanut butter. Here, if I want peanut butter, I need to roast the peanuts and spend about half an hour smashing them with a giant mortar and pestle. Another huge difference is the lack of cheese here. For those reading in the States, try to go through every meal and subtract the cheese. It makes things a lot less delicious. Needless to say, I get a lot more joy out of little things, like iced coffee with real milk.
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