Friday, February 11, 2011
Quick update: last weekend I went to the New Year’s party at the Lycée where I brought my guitar and had a roaring good time belting out American folk and blues songs and learning some Malagasy songs. The party was epic: they killed a cow!
On Wednesday, I brought my guitar to English club where we had another roaring good time learning “The Tennessee Waltz.” Walking back home I got pretty drenched because I used my rain poncho to protect my guitar, but it was all a lot of fun.
I may be going to a citywide teachers’ New Year’s party tomorrow (and yes, I know it’s already two weeks into February). That is, if Madagascar isn’t washed into the ocean. Supposedly tropical storm Bingiza should hit sometime tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Happy International Women’s Day! And Happy Birthday Mom!
Whoa, sorry folks. It’s been a while since I updated. I did in fact go to the city-wide teachers’ New Year’s party with Mama Peace Corps. There was an hour’s worth of speeches and then a lot of dancing. It got way too hot in the barn-like dancehall, so we left early. Then it rained and stormed a lot. Turns out it wasn’t tropical storm Bingiza… yet.
That landed the next day, hitting the northeast coast of Madagascar as a cyclone and crisscrossing back and forth across the island once over the course of a few days, gaining and losing steam at various landings.
Since then I’ve been busy with classes, English club on Wednesday and Friday, Professional English course on Saturday, and I’ve just had my first radio broadcast! Here’s that story:
So, about two months ago I was walking with my buddies Momyne and Anthony and I pointed at the radio towers on the mountain. I asked if they knew where the radio station was (I’ve wanted to do a radio show since the day I submitted my application to be a Peace Corps volunteer). Momyne and Anthony took me right into the hole-in-the wall studio for Ambanja’s main radio station: Radio Ankoay, 105.0 FM.
The DJ didn’t find anything odd about us walking in on his live broadcast, but let us know that the owner of the radio station was across the street. We entered a small electronics shop and I introduced myself to the owner, telling him about Peace Corps, my program in Ambanja, and how I wanted to do a weekly broadcast that would mix English lessons and music. He said it would be fine and that if I left my phone number he’d give me a call back with available times.
Well, time went by and he didn’t call, so two weeks ago I went back to try to get the show on the road. He saw me and immediately brought out the radio timetable. We agreed on Thursdays, 6:30-7:00 pm. He said I could start the next week.
So, Thursday, March 3, 2011 I headed to Radio Ankoay with a CD of some good hearty American music, and an English dialogue with a Malagasy translation. The plan was to do an introduction, read through the dialogue a few times in English and Malagasy with Anthony, and then play the first track (“Good Ol’ Mantasoa,” chosen because my awesome Malagasy language instructors Edwina and Linda had written a full Malagasy translation back when I recorded the song in Mantasoa). After that, Anthony would read the translation, and then we’d go back and forth in English and Malagasy introducing the following tracks, each with a brief description.
Well, Anthony backed out at the last second, so I did the introduction and read the dialogue myself, which was fine (although I don’t think the voices I did were very distinguishable from one another). Then I introduced “Good Ol’ Mantasoa,” but the DJ had forgotten to plug the CD player in. He cued up a female pop-country singer as filler for the five minutes he took to connect things, which may have confused listeners at home, but eventually the song played and I read the translation (although I butchered the pronunciation). Then I went through three more songs (“The Tennessee Waltz,” “Early Morning Rain,” and “You Are My Sunshine”), introducing them in English and coming up with a quick Malagasy summary for each on the spot. In closing I was sure to thank my friends and family listening in Ambanja.
Those friends and family included all four Ambanja-area PCVs (Katie M, Katie B, Jonathan, and Jason) and the whole Mama Peace Corps family, all listening at chez MPC. When I walked in the door after the broadcast, everyone was very supportive and congratulatory (MPC screamed in excitement). I can’t wait for the next broadcast this Thursday.
Today school was cancelled for International Women’s Day. I went down to the main street where just about the whole town had gathered to watch thousands of women (and a few men, carrying signs or playing instruments) marching in an epic parade. They were divided by organization (for instance the Lycée, the post office, the police, etc.) and dressed in matching lambahoany (big, colorful, traditional toga-like cloth pieces). Most were dancing to the beat of djembes and little hand-carved three string guitars. It was a very loud and energetic affair. Way to go women of Ambanja!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Well, tonight’s the night for the third edition of Emission Anglais on Radio Ankoay, with yours truly. Last week I recorded a Peace Corps indicatif (30 second intro that will be used on all the Peace Corps Ambanja radio programs) with Katie and Jason and Momyne. Then Momyne and I recorded a specific indicatif for my program, Emission Anglais (Katie and Jason have their own cool indicatif for Emission Sante). On Thursday I went with my Malagasy sister Sido (who has been staying with Mama Peace Corps while on break from university) to the station, and she and I made an awesome broadcast. We went back and forth in the dialogues we had written, each doing English and Malagasy, and then began introducing songs like pros. In a few minutes I’ll be heading to school, and then over to do broadcast number three, which I wrote out with Sido this morning. I think I’m starting to get the hang of things now.
In other news, last Friday I got really bad food poisoning and didn’t really leave bed until Tuesday. MPC, Momyne, and the housekeeper Rose all got sick too and went to the health clinic/hospital to stay for the weekend. MPC and Rose went home, but Momyne is still there, so keep him in your thoughts.
I'll be in Diego this weekend for a Volunteer Advisory Committee (VAC) meeting, so you all can get in touch with me internet-style.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Rainy Season
Friday, January 28, 2010
It’s been a very wet week here in Ambanja. The rainy season is just getting started, meaning rather than just getting heavy bursts of rain every evening, we also receive a daily deluge in the morning or afternoon. Since all the roads are dirt, things have been pretty muddy and messy. My pair of nice Rainbow sandals broke as I tried to dislodge my foot from a particularly deep mud-soup, so I now have a pair of Malagasy “Lacoste” flip-flops ($2.50). The thong straps come apart several times a day, but fixing them is just a simple matter of forcing the circular-pegged strap back through the base of the shoe.
Tuesday was a surprise. I showed up at school ready to teach my 10:00 a.m. class, and the Proviseur said, “Oh, hello M. Josh, the Seconde teachers are in here,” motioning toward the bibliotheque. I told him I had a class starting soon, to which he replied, “oh, maybe you were not informed: there is no class today and tomorrow.” I was certainly not informed, but that happens a lot around here.
So, what was going on in the library? All the teachers were gathered around giant stacks of student “bulletins,” which are small paper booklets with the student’s photo and vitals on the inside cover, followed by pages and pages of trimester report cards. I had become very familiar with these bulletins the week before when I spent an entire day copying the grades for each of my 300+ students from my grade sheet to their specific bulletin. Next to each grade there is a space for about 3 words worth of commentary and then a signature line, which I also had to fill in. These bulletins and I had not gotten off on the right foot…
The teachers were going through these bulletins, one at time, and collectively coming up with a three to four word comment for each student based on his/her average grade and class rank (the comment came in four fun flavors, roughly translated as: watch out, you’re failing; needs to study more; needs to put in more effort; and good, keep it up). The comment was written in each student’s bulletin, and then it (along with the student’s name, average grade, class rank, and number of hours absent) was meticulously copied into a master notebook. I sat there all day in order to provide “input.” It wasn’t very fun. I could have been teaching or playing guitar or both.
Although we finished filling out the bulletins on Tuesday, classes were still cancelled on Wednesday. Luckily I was able to catch a few students lounging around school Tuesday to let them know that English club was still on for the next day. Unfortunately, English club is at 4:30 and a storm rolled in right around 3:45. I had a poncho and rain pants, which kept my body pretty dry, but my shoes were a sopping mess. Mad props to the dozen or so students who trudged through the storm to meet me at school. We learned a lot of storm, food, and relationship vocab. Fun stuff.
Not much else is new around here. Until next time, I’ll be trying to keep clean and dry.
It’s been a very wet week here in Ambanja. The rainy season is just getting started, meaning rather than just getting heavy bursts of rain every evening, we also receive a daily deluge in the morning or afternoon. Since all the roads are dirt, things have been pretty muddy and messy. My pair of nice Rainbow sandals broke as I tried to dislodge my foot from a particularly deep mud-soup, so I now have a pair of Malagasy “Lacoste” flip-flops ($2.50). The thong straps come apart several times a day, but fixing them is just a simple matter of forcing the circular-pegged strap back through the base of the shoe.
Tuesday was a surprise. I showed up at school ready to teach my 10:00 a.m. class, and the Proviseur said, “Oh, hello M. Josh, the Seconde teachers are in here,” motioning toward the bibliotheque. I told him I had a class starting soon, to which he replied, “oh, maybe you were not informed: there is no class today and tomorrow.” I was certainly not informed, but that happens a lot around here.
So, what was going on in the library? All the teachers were gathered around giant stacks of student “bulletins,” which are small paper booklets with the student’s photo and vitals on the inside cover, followed by pages and pages of trimester report cards. I had become very familiar with these bulletins the week before when I spent an entire day copying the grades for each of my 300+ students from my grade sheet to their specific bulletin. Next to each grade there is a space for about 3 words worth of commentary and then a signature line, which I also had to fill in. These bulletins and I had not gotten off on the right foot…
The teachers were going through these bulletins, one at time, and collectively coming up with a three to four word comment for each student based on his/her average grade and class rank (the comment came in four fun flavors, roughly translated as: watch out, you’re failing; needs to study more; needs to put in more effort; and good, keep it up). The comment was written in each student’s bulletin, and then it (along with the student’s name, average grade, class rank, and number of hours absent) was meticulously copied into a master notebook. I sat there all day in order to provide “input.” It wasn’t very fun. I could have been teaching or playing guitar or both.
Although we finished filling out the bulletins on Tuesday, classes were still cancelled on Wednesday. Luckily I was able to catch a few students lounging around school Tuesday to let them know that English club was still on for the next day. Unfortunately, English club is at 4:30 and a storm rolled in right around 3:45. I had a poncho and rain pants, which kept my body pretty dry, but my shoes were a sopping mess. Mad props to the dozen or so students who trudged through the storm to meet me at school. We learned a lot of storm, food, and relationship vocab. Fun stuff.
Not much else is new around here. Until next time, I’ll be trying to keep clean and dry.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
6 Months In Country
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...
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...
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)