There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.


Nelson Mandela

November 16th 2011

                                             

STAY CALM WORLD I AM STILL ALIVE!! Although I will not lie, there were many times and ways in which I could have met an untimely death in the last 10 days. I was in the field doing research with my awesome translator Bako about an hour outside of Ambositra in this incredibly isolated village called Anjoman’Ankona. Here are the various worst-case scenarios I managed to strategically escape:

1.     Being slowly eaten alive by an ARMY of flesh eating bedbugs 10 nights in a row

2.     Mysteriously disappearing somewhere in the 150 hectare endemic Tapia forest with my highly knowledgeable, sole French-speaking, and perpetually wasted local guide Jean-Claude

3.     Exploding from being force-fed SO much food. Literally every person I encountered showered me with fried something or other or a plate of corn or a plate of manioc or a bowl of sugar and it is REALLY rude not to eat food your given so naturally I always obliged.

4.     Getting attacked by the dola dola, the town crazy lady who was really, really into me (Sidenote: she was literally the most interesting person I have met in Madagascar and used to be a university student before going crazy with what appeared to be schizophrenia. She was clearly way more intelligent than everyone else tho and I really just wanted to do my ISP on her life.)

5.     Being carried off by Anjoman’ Akona’s Least Eligible Bachelors

6.     Death by boredom. Nothing but Hortencia the mayor’s 5 year old daughter and a My Little Pony coloring book to entertain me for the three days my translator left me.

7.     Drowning in a rice paddy.

It was supposed to be a brief sojourn, return to town, and then another brief sojourn the next week but I was quite literally taken hostage, largely due to the fact that by the time the first period came to an end I had essentially (and completely unintentionally) risen to celebrity status. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that I was living with the mayor, who is already a highly mysterious figure. His father was mayor before him and is now a member of Parliament in the capitol Antananarivo. His family is extremely wealthy because of the monopoly they have on oranges and citrus fruits in the Hautes Plateux, which after tasting several specimens I totally understand. He also comes across as really cold and uninviting but that’s really just because he’s uber shy, his sister explained to me. His house is one palacial pad, lavish to say the least. It’s three stories high and newly constructed with crown moldings and light fixtures and really upscale latrines. When it gets electricity it will be the only building in the commune to have it. I stayed on the third story right off of the balcony, which was visible by everyone who walked by. Basically I felt like repunsal the whole week, except when I wasn’t in my tower and I felt like the Princess Diana or the Dhali Lama. I shook hands with more people than I can tell you, upwards of 1,000 and kissed more babies than is probably considered healthy. It’s a miracle I didn’t get sick again, haha. I think I really clinched my celebrity status when I went to Catholic church on Sunday, not sure why but it  seemed like that was when my star peaked. I also contribute my celebrity status to the fact that Eddy the Albino Peace Corps Volunteer wasn’t there this week so the title of Anjoman’ Akona’s Next Top Vazha was mine for the taking. And I did. However, for the first few days a lot of people thought my name was also Eddy and yelled “BONJOUR EDDY!!” everytime they saw me.

The mayor’s wife is a chubby lady named Marguerite who runs a local grain co-op in the bottom floor of the house. She was super sweet and fed me lots of snacks and spoke to me slowly in Malgache and was just generally cool. Then there were the two “bonnes,” or girls who do all the domestic work around the house and in return receive a place to sleep and food to eat. Their names were Farisoa, who is 21, and Hainko, who is 25. They were incredible. So happy and always laughing. I wish we had a common language so we could have chatted for real. They found out that I like coffee and brought me coffee every day. SO SWEET. They also took me on walks and helped me menasha lamba (wash clothes) once they realized I had no idea what I was doing. Uh, I miss them already. Then there was Mamy, who is 27 and is the brother of Hainko. He was clearly really cool but our conversations really only consisted of “Marie!!” and then “Mamy!!” (pronounced like “Mommy!!”). Uh so great.

Yay, I got to speak with so many amazing people this week. I interviewed a total of 20 people and got to talk with so many others. One of my favorites was Madame Jacqueline who is the president of one of the two weaving associations in town. She showed me all the steps of silk making so now I am an expert. And also she is clearly magic, you can tell just by looking at her. I also got to visit the village of the descendants of the king, which is another incredibly isolated village within Faliarivo. We had to ask them for permission to visit days in advance and then brought lots of local vanilla rum as an offering. They told me the story of the King of Faliarivo, Ramonjamanana of which they have the original manuscript from the 1800’s (and of which they spilled rum on…). He was super powerful and gracious and had a palace with one hundred rooms (now just the foundation) and was the first person to learn how to read and write. He also has a GIANT tomb with lots of secret doors. O man it was the most beautiful little hamlet I have ever seen and I can only imagine was it looked like during his reign.

Now I am back in Ambositra living with Bako (so nice of her to take me in!!) and am compiling all of my research and writing my final paper for the semester. So close to being done with the semester I can almost taste it!! The 40 pages ahead of me are just a minor detail that I’m choosing not to give too much thought.

In other news, last night at dinner Bako asked me if pousses exist in America, referring to rickshaws. However, I though she was talking about bed bugs, which are also called pousse and was like, “YES. They are a MAJOR problem, especially in New York City. They’re impossible to get rid of and you have to use a ton of insecticide to kill them. They’re in all the hotels and movie theaters. It’s a HUGE epidemic. They’re spreading all over the place. My sister had them in her apartment. DISGUSTING!!” and Bako was like “…oh…does it cost money?” and I was like, “what, to kill them?” and she was like “god, no…to ride them” and then things clicked in my head hahaha.

Bako, My Translator

Tomorrow is market day in Ambositra and I’m gonna try to encourage Bako and teenage kids Lalandy and Ikajshdbaijsdb to visit the clairvoyant teenager here who died for two hours and came back to life and now can tell who is in heaven and who is in hell. Apparently both Michael Jackson AND Bob Marley are in hell. Huh.

Bako and her teenage Children

Miss you and see you all real soon!

Mairi

La nouvelle venue

 Whoa. Today was such an incredible day I have to record it. I made my first contacts with the first site I’ll be working at for my ISP. The town is called Anjoman’Ankona and is about an hour taxi-brousse ride outside of Ambositra. I’ll be researching 2km north with the people in the Faliarivo tapia forest (not sure if there village has its own name but I’m assuming it does. Guess I’ll find out!). Stanila (a Ny Tanintsika employee), Touavinah (awesome translator for the day and friend) and I left Ambositra at 7 this morning and got to Anjoman’Ankona at 8. We were scheduled to meet with the mayor but, alas things move slowly in this mora mora culture. So we decided to investigate the atelier de la soie down the road and then somehow ended up in Mm Jacqueline’s home. She is a silk maker and a weaver and showed us basically the whole process. Yay!! So cool!! Then the mayor came and it was time for us to meet. He is actually the joint mayor, having just retired a week ago and getting ready to hand the torch over to the deputy mayor. The point of the meeting was really just to say hello and ensure them that my intentions are pure. It went really, really great. He was this awesome oldish guy, taller than most Malagasy men and definitely more rotund. He was wearing a fleecey sweatshirt with fiercesome looking grey wolves, adding to his regal and omnipotent presence.

            Then the VOE of the Faliarivo village came and met us and I explained who I was and what I was doing all over again. They were all really awesome and seemed like good characters. They will be escorting us to the village from Anjoman’Ankona everyday, which I don’t know is totally necessary considering I’m (HOPEFULLY) bringing a guide but I’m just gonna go with it haha. I’m also gonna try to organize a focus session sometime this week with the VOE so hopefully they’ll be into it. One is named Jean-Claude and he’s a tiny tiny giggley giggley man who is possibly the funniest character I’ve met in Madagascar and also possibly an alcoholic. During our interactions with the VOE the mayor chimed in periodically in his booming mayor voice with a long-windedly beautiful sentiment about how we must treat the crazy American chick with respect and tell her everything we can because it is very important to the people and will bring good things, maybe one day someone will come and build schools and then Anjoman’Ankona will become a city that is revered and respected by all the people of the world. So yeah, there’s like totally no pressure or anything. Then they decided that it wasn’t safe for me to stay in the actual village soooo I’m gonna live with the mayor!!!! So incredibly nice!!! At least I think I am…I might also be living with the deputy mayor…I have no idea…but Jean-Claude it gonna meet us on Sunday when we arrive (me and my imaginary guide/translator, that is) and take us to our place of lodging.

            After our meeting with the major we walked through the town and stopped about every five feet to shake hands with everyone. He is literally the coolest mayor ever and clearly makes good things happen in the town and therefore everyone wants to shake his hand. I feel genuinely honored that he is letting me stay with him (at least I think he is…).  THEN he took us to a Peace Corps volunteer’s house! So basically everyone in town had been describing this fellow to us all morning and by that point we had his appearance down to a T. Like, I could have literally drawn this person with my eyes closed. A tall, African American man named Addi (Ahhh-dee) who is very, VERY fat. However, we got to the house and knocked on the door and were like “Salam – oh…” and had to stifle our giggle because Addi was actually a slender medium sized Jesus-look alike American with a shock of curly platinum hair and the palest skin I have seen in three months. Also his name is the significantly less exotic Eddy, short for Edward. Bahahaha hilarious. But he was so great!! And really freaked out to see a white person speaking English in his village. Apparently he’s doing a lot of work with the silk weavers there so help them sell their products and come up with business plans maybe? He’s also considering starting up an Alcoholics Anonymous for the town, which I though was pretty interesting. After we left we went and bought rice and duck eggs and cucumbers and invited ourselves back over for lunch hehe. I think we might have been the first guests he’s had haha. Oh yeah and on Sunday he’s hosting a showcasing kind of thing where all the weavers are gonna bring their things and then they’re gonna try to make a catalogue. So if I ever make it back to the town I’m gonna stop by yay!

            Also, little side note. It turns out the other vizaha, Annabelle, who works in Soatanana (the weaving village where I want to go during week two) wants to start researching eco-tourism development in Faliarivo also. Yeah, so basically the biggest challenge of this project (apart from obtaining useful information) is gonna be NOT creating or stirring up new problems and not messing it up for anyone who comes in after me. It’s proving to be really challenging though because it’s such a short-term project. It’s hard not to be distruptive. I’m gonna meet with her tomorrow though I hope to figure out how we can work together and how I can avoid stepping on her toes. Hopefully I can help get her research rolling…hopefully.

Time to go find a translator!

Love marmar

Google Map of Where Mairi Is

Ambrositra, Madagascar

This is the area where Mairi will be for the next month working on her independent study.

Two nuns and a legendary boxer walk into a bar…

Yay! My ISP might actually happen! This morning my mission was to scope out the office of Ny Taninstika and have a meeting with Ifalina. The whole ordeal took me about 4 hours start to finish, but it was a great success and I now know my way around the city better. However, Malagasy people are THE WORST at giving you directions and for some reason assume that when they give you landmarks that are about 2 miles apart along very windy roads you can’t get lost and then say things like, “Oh, it’s not far just like 5km or so.” “WHAT 5k?!?!” “Oh, I meant like 50 meters…” “Wait is it 5k away or 50 meters?” “You can’t miss it!” So basically my landmarks were a church, a sign, and a yellow building. Not kidding, I probably saw 10 yellow churches with signs along the way. So then I started asking for directions again. Some people were kinda helpful but then I decided to “step up my game” so to speak and made friends with two cute little nuns who then proceeded to keep me company on my mission. They didn’t really know either, it turned out, but things worked out find because then some random dude skidded to a halt on his motorcycle in the middle of the road right in front of us. It turned out to be their good friend/ Muhammad Ali’s doppelganger.  After a brief discussion between the nuns and Muhammad Ali, Muhammad Ali’s face lit up. He knew where the office was!!! Then I broke the last cardinal rule of the program and hopped on the back of Muhammad Ali’s motorcycle and we drove off into the sunset, and by that I mean down the street 500 feet to the Ny Taninstika office.

Everyone at the office was really nice and I learned everybody’s name and then subsequently forgot them despite intensive repetition. It turns out Ifalina speaks English, which is GREAT for my project but not so great for my French skills…The meeting went really well, except for the fact that the theme of my project is to develop sustainable tourism strategies in the Faliarivo forest and she wasn’t aware that it needed more development…awkward. However, I can still look for ways where they can improve and grow and also collect local opinions, which is something they should probably be doing periodically anyway. I also met my translator this afternoon, who is Ifalina’s sister. She is super cool and speaks awesome English/ French/ German and is really fun and seems genuinely interested in the project. Way better than any translator I imagined getting haha. Only, she has a super complicated Malagasy name that of course I can’t remember…(Sidenote: she is no longer my translator…she got a better job offer…I am translatorless again but I met this person today who speaks really good English and seems like he is a legitimate guide, or in his words “I am not one of those spidey-full boys.” “What you’re not Spidey? OH you’re not spiteful. Well great!” He looks like my best option thus far)

On Friday I’m going to the forest and meeting the community as well as their mayor. Next week I’m hopefully gonna be able to survey people in the Faliarivo forest and collect their opinions on how they want their forest to develop and then the week after that I’m trying to go to Soatanana (the weaving village) to collect their opinions. I’m super worried because there is only 20 days and literally no time to mess up and I might not even be able to work with the weaving project, which is really the main reason why I decided to come here. Regardless, I know I’ll learn a lot even if my project is terrible haha. We’ll see.

I’m kinda torn because right now I’m staying in the hotel called Hotel du Centre, which was really just because the hotel next door never wrote down my reservation so I had nowhere to stay the first night BUT it’s turned out to be a gem. The only thing is it’s a little bit pricy. However, it’s owned by an ADORABLE group of elderly Chinese people and they’ve been SO incredibly kind. Last night the 3pm thunderstorm was particularly severe and the hotel lost power and one of the owners came and brought me a candle and matches (which was also slightly worrisome, because, well, fire…)!!! So nice! Today they gave me really thorough direction to the (which actually were not helpful AT ALL but really really thoughtful nonetheless) to the office and even gave me a shiny tourist map. Plus, they are also a pharmacy and sell funny miracle cures, like Spirolina, Madagascar blue-green algea that is part plant, part bacteria, part animal…don’t ask me. It cures everything – indigestion, cancer, you name it. Clearly they are very nurturing and good-hearted people so I think I might just decide I’m going over budget and stick with them. Tonight or tomorrow I’m gonna eat at the restaurant on the first floor so I guess that might tip the scales one way or another. 

Trick or treat, smell my feet…

Happy Halloween!!

So today I stepped in a huge pile of poop. People poop. In sandals. It happened right after I had taken a nap on the taxi-brousse and then got out during a bathroom break. I now understand the importance of remaining vigilant and replacing contacts with a fresh pair before exiting a parked taxi-brousse. Lord there was so much poop. It’s as if all the taxi-brousse drivers in Madagascar had a convened and declared these clusters of bushes as the national pooping grounds. Sweet Jesus was that place a warzone; generous brown landmines covered the hillsides, camouflaged by a smattering of broad, freshly fallen leaves…In a moment of weakness I rubbed my eyes, foggy from napping on the early morning taxi, and then BAM. The second it happened I immediately flashed back to my little kid self stepping in a cow pie in those nice clean white sandals I used to own, being horribly traumatized as my dad hosed off my foot. This was SO much worse.

            Thankfully though, I was not alone. Stu and Amanda took the same taxi-brousse as me (today is the first day of our independent study projects where we all split up and do research on our own) and were there to laugh with me about it after I disinfected my foot and said GOOD RIDDANCE to my sandals. Stu pointed out that this is probably just one of those things that has to happen periodically for a person to get rid of all their bad luck, so in the greater scheme of things, the fact that I stepped sandal-footed in a steaming pile of people poo on the first day of ISPs actually bodes well for the project as a whole…Thanks Stu.

            Nonetheless, I made it safe and sound to Ambositra, where I will be staying during my ISP. I really really like it. I think it might actually be my favorite town I’ve been to yet. There are about 30,000 people and the roads are nicely paved. There’s not that much traffic or crowds and it’s also the artisanal/ handicraft capitol of Madagascar. All of the people I’ve encountered so far have been exceedingly nice, which bodes well. My pousse-pousse driver carried me and ALL of my bags to the hotel for just 1,000 ariary (I gave him 2,000 because it was uphill and I’ve also been eating a lot of pain au chocolats lately) without even trying to overcharge me. So kind. Also I’ve only been called vizha like 5 times since being here. Incredible!! It’s too late/ rainy to wonder around now but I’m gonna use tomorrow to get myself situated. On Wednesday I’m meeting all the staff of Ny Taninstika (if I find the office that is…) ad will try to figure out what the heck I’m gonna do with my project. They all seem really great so far and I’m so excited to get the opportunity to (hopefully) contribute some good work to their projects. On Thursday I’ll be going out to the sites where I’ll be conducting research and meeting the communities. I hope they like me!!

So before leaving we all got really nervous (obviously) and so all 24 of us decided to write affirmations for everyone (which are basically like anonymous compliments that make people feel awesome about themselves) to take with us on our ISPS. It turned out so great and was really nice considering the entire group has been communicating via nothing but “indri call” (the coolest lemur known to man) ever since we say them in Ambolobe the other day (here’s an idea of what all our conversations sounded like: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGdVz8VEQ-M

Affirmation Highlight:

“You are the definition of cool.”  (Agreed.)

Rural Village Stay

Host Family

Bubbles

file:///Users/mairimckellop/Pictures/iPhoto%20Library/Originals/2011/mairi%20village%20photos/P1000391.jpg

Salama! Salama! Salama!

Hi everyone! Wow it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to write! This is gonna be quite a hefty post but there are so many wonderful experiences I feel like I have to remember. We left Ft. Dauphin on the 9^th and have literally been all over the southern half of Madagascar. We went to Tulear first, which is on the western coast, right on the edge of the Mozambique channel. We studied marine conservation while in Tulear and talked to so many NGOs (ReefDoctor, Blue Ventures (both considered some of the best conservation NGOs in existence), WWF again, and many others). We also got to snorkel in this amazing protected area called the Rose Garden, which is a coral reef managed by ReefDoctor and the local community. The first two days in Tulear we were right outside the city in Isalo, where our Academic Director owns this BEAUTIFUL pristine camping area and has an even more beautiful house close to the beach where there are some of the coolest (and only) mangroves I have ever seen. There was a full moon when we were there so naturally we decided to have a party. We roasted a sheep AND a goat, both of which were so much healthier looking than any animal I have seen in this far. (Sidenote: Sheep have tails here.) Obviously, Lindsey and Cassandra did the honors, both having emerged as the most skilled animal slaughterers in the group. Our sacrifices were perfectly seasoned with garlic and salt and pepper and was probably the best meat-eating experience I’ve had in Madagascar. The next two days were spent in Hotel Tropical in the heart of Tulear. It’s kind of ridiculous how HUGE of a city Tulear felt like. It is the biggest tourist hotspot in Madagascar, but is still really not a big place at all. One interesting thing about Tulear is that people get around by pousse-pousse, flamboyantly colored wooden rickshaws (left overs from colonialism but actually pretty lucrative jobs for the runners). However, there was gelato and other treats.It’s kind of crazy that I had no idea how much I was missing out on in Ft. Dauphin, and that at the same time all these new great things make me homesick…Perhaps it’s because of my awesome, warm, welcoming family back in Ft. Dauphin that I didn’t really feel any pangs of homesickness in the first part of the program, or maybe the non-stop traveling or living out of a backpack that we’ve been doing but this trip is starting to feel really, really long haha.

The other night we talked to two (super disillusioned) Peace Corps volunteers, Mike and Allison, who were in their last four weeks. It was interesting to talk to Americans who have been here for so much longer, who have gone through all the same lows and highs as we have, just a greater number of times and maybe to more extremes. We bombarded them with questions about life in Madagascar, life in the Peace Corps, and their plans for the future for almost 3 hours. They were incredibly honest about their experience, which I greatly appreciated and think was in part because they were so close to the end of their time. It was incredibly interesting talking with them.

            After Tulear we began a four day camping trip in some of the national parks: Isalo, Anja, Andringitra. Anja was nice, but I was mostly incapacitated or horizontal somewhere because of another intense stomach flu/ diarrhea combo that began in Tulear. The best part of  was driving in the Tata, shockingly enough. The landscape was so beautiful and so different than any of the other places we have visisted thus far. It looks a lot like the badlands out West and in my sick delirium in the back of the Tata I kept forgetting what country I was in. My favorite memory of this part of the trip was lying in my tent when I was sick. Camp was really quiet because everyone else had gone to swim in la piscine bleue-noire but I just couldn’t muster the strength (Everyone was really nice and insisted that I didn’t miss anything). As I laid in my tent meditating/ trying not to lose any more bodily fluids, rumbles of thunder began overhead and then got louder and louder and a REALLY fun thunderstorm took place (the first one I’ve experienced in Madagascar) and I felt better for a while. It was really peaceful, probably mostly because there weren’t 24 other crazed SIT students around me for the first time in FOREVER. Then I fell asleep and dreamed I was in the Lion King…

            After this we traveled to Adringitra National Park. And as I say about each new place I visit here, it is most likely the most beautiful place on earth, but this time I am serious. Hands down the most beautiful place I have ever seen. It looks like a cross between New Zealand and the Scottish highlands and was just so incredibly vast. We walked about an hour upwards to our camp, which was on the edge of the haute-plateau and right next to a waterfall. It was amazing hiking up through a thick forest (which totally resembled a deciduous forest in New England. There were orange leaves scattered along the trail. It is also quite cold in this region, making it seem even more like fall at home, and we stopped at a flea market on the way to get warm clothes. I picked up a SNAZZY purple coat – canvas, oversized, reversible, a repetitive pattern of dancing couples covering one side, and altogether a great use of a dollar). The second day we hike Peak St. Bobby, the second highest peak in Madagascar and the highest accessible one (a fun fact I discovered at the summit). Sweet Jesus was it a long hike, about 7 hours in total, but it felt twice as long because of my feeble condition. But I think I sweated out all of my sickness (and probably 29 pounds too) because by the time I got to camp I finally felt better after a week of being pretty much incapacitated and generally revolted by the thought of food. Later we did yoga to the mountains, led by our awesome, awesome director Jim and I successfully did a handstand!! That night, to celebrate our ridiculous accomplishment we had S’MORES!!! Of course they were total Madagascar s’mores; good but sliiightly off. The marshmallows were square for example, and also neon pink and green… The chocolate was most likely 12 years old, melted and reformed into funny shapes and where graham crackers normally go there were crispy coconut Gouty’s. Mmm such a nice surprise.

            In other news, Emma and I have decided to capitalize on our long hours in the Tata and decipher everyone’s “essence.” The categories are animal, color, plant, food, drink, landscape, and music and the way it works is that you think deeply about the characteristics of a person and decide which animal, color, plant etc captures their essence. It’s hilarious because people are sooo into it (they ususally just turn into us being like, “YOUR REALLY AWESOME AND WE REALLY REALLY LIKE YOU.”) and everyone gets really excited when they have their consultation with us. I think almost everyone has taken meticulous essence notes in their field notebooks haha.  I can’t wait until our professors stumble across them in everyone’s notebooks, but then again the profs all got them too (Barry: some sort of wild canine, probably a mix between coyote and grey wolf, tundra, mom’s home-made macaroni and cheese [he’s a very nurturing soul], and earl grey tea). We’ve gotten really good at it haha and are almost done with all 24 people. Honestly though we’ve done so many that they’ve kinda just turned into us being like, “Yeah, you’re definitely a saguaro cactus because your just, like, so incredibly tall and regal and beautiful and okay, maybe you’re a little prickly at first, but those spines also make a GREAT place for little birds to rest after a long and trying migration….um, yeah.” or “Your clearly an ancient pine forest with wind moving through the trees, causing them to gently sway to and fro, because you’re just so full of wisdom and beauty and have a free spirit that will always be in motion” And then the person will be like, “Wow that’s so interesting I always thought of myself as an ancient pine forest!! Crazy!” We’ve done everyone except one girl who is pretty obviously a peacock and a forest after an ice storm…still trying to figure out how to express these tactfully, because she’s great but there is no denying she is CLEARLY a peacock and an icy, icy forest…

My essence (according to Emma)!!!! So good!!!

            Animal (there are two):

            1. Lion, probably a mother lion, running across the savannah (bahahha YES): Strong, will look after her cubs (nurturing), has a fuzzy side but ferocious when needs to be

            2. Asian Sunbear (not sure about this one): rare, exotic, docile, sweet, cute…

Color: Bright matte yellow screaming out for someone to cover it in designs, probably ones that are brightly colored and intricate.

Plant: Aloe, can grow anywhere, not dinky, has a very useful function, comes in crazy, colorful varieties as well

Food: Watermelon on a hot summer day with lots of juice, good as is, don’t need to cook or do anything to it, “inherently delicious,” but also has layers

            Drink: Mexican hot chocolate, warm, comforting, spicy, definitely not made from Swiss Miss, something that you’d love to hold in your hands on a cold winters day (yay!!)

            Landscape: Cascading pool in the woods, the rock formations underneath having been there for a very, very long time, but the water running over them is new and constantly changing. The base is old but it is still refreshing.

In other news, I am now in Tana preparing for my independent study project that starts on Monday and goes through the end of November. I’M SO SCARED AND SOSOSOSOSO (or should I say SOS…) EXCITED!!! However, it gonna be super sad saying by to everyone and going off ALL ALONE IN MADAGASCAR. People are going all over the country and the nearest person is gonna be a 4 hour taxi-brousse ride away from me…I’m working with an NGO called Ny Tanintsika/ Feedback Madagascar with the Wild Silk Project. I’m gonna study a bunch of stuff and have already bitten off way more than I can chew haha, but I know exactly what I want to study and am gonna try my hardest to make it happen. Regardless, I know it’s gonna be an incredible opportunity to learn about grassroots development/ conservation strategies and sustainable livelihoods practices. If my research goes to hell I’m gonna turn it into an ethnography and just babble on about my thoughts (which, as u can tell by the length of this blog post I’m pretty great at) and observations for 30 pages.

Here is a video about the project from David Attenborough’s documentary for BBC called "Madagascar"(so clever). Eugénie is my advisor!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7UBZOwvNes

Love you guys!!!

Mairi

Omby

Here is what zebu actually look like!

Host Family

Ekaaaa....

Diamonds and Coal, Part I

Diamond: Watching humpback whales breach offshore during lunch

Coal, but also kind of a diamond: My first parasite!! It was a parache, a sand flea that burrows into your feet, quite often under the toenail. I was sunning myself on a boulder after swimming in the most pristine natural pool known to man in Andoahela National Park, when I noticed my middle toe had swollen to twice its normal size. “Um, is this a parache?” I asked. “YESSSSSS!” said my teacher. Later Sylvie, a Malagasy student, extracted it from my toe with to giant spines (thankfully the ordeal took place in a transitional spiny forest), and good thing too for it had already gotten chubby and laid eggs. Yummmmm.

COAL (but definitely a diamond in hindsight): not realizing there is a 12 hour time delay on laxatives and taking THREE at 2 in the afternoon. Also, an important part of this story is that the bathroom is outside and my family locks the house with three dead bolts and a key at night.

Diamond: Skinny dipping in the Indian Ocean under a full moon.

Coal:  Saying bye to my village-stay family, knowing I’ll probably never see them again. My cousin cried off the suns drawn on her face in manioc :( I think it was the first time in our experience with them where no one was singing or dancing. It was also kind a weird because they used the beautiful lamba we gave our mom to tie up the sheep…

Diamond: Petites gateaux. And street food in general. Ma copine Amanda and I frequent this one petites gateaux stand pretty much everyday before our hour walk to school (no joke) and yesterday we finally got up the courage to ask the people who work there for their recipe!!! First we asked her mom what to say in Malgache and wrote a script and practiced it. It went like this:

-Good day. We would like to tell you that we love the deliciousness of your little cakes! We love to eat them everyday! Could you please tell us what is inside the little cakes that makes them so delicious??

Bahahahaha they thought we were insane, especially because pretty much every vendor in Madagascar sells the EXACT same thing. But they were super nice and gave us the recipe!! The secret ingredients are eggs, sugar, and flour...

Diamond: My homestay family. Doris, Didi, Dino, Derrick, and Dadabé are the BEST

Coal: The time when my chicken didn’t make it through the Tata ride home from the village stay and I didn’t have any vondalena (gifts from the road) to bring back to my homestay family. RIP Tsaky Tsaky Wow.

Diamond: the exchange rate. For $1 USD I can buy 10 petites gatueaxs, a taxi-ride, a lamba, or 12 large bagedas.

Coal: the exchange rate. This place is poor. Someone told me the World Bank just declared Madagascar as the worst economy in the world. Thankfully, richness comes in other forms here, like in zebu or kids or music or stories or art or dancing.

Diamond: Stargazing. I can find Scorpio now!!

Coal, and sometimes a diamond too: Perma rice-baby. Madagascar has the highest rice per capita consumption of anywhere in the world. Oddly, it has never crossed over into the dessert world, so naturally I decided last night that rice pudding would be a good conclusion to our meal. My family was super confused why we were eating rice for dessert and was like, “Oh, so she wants us to eat more rice after the legitimate MOUNTAIN of rice we just consumed for diner…” They were super cute about it though and were very complimentary of it (especially the raisins haha) and were all like, “MMMMMMMMM!!!!!!” really loud but then got mysteriously full. It was really cute. Apparently rice pudding is just TOO radical for the biggest rice eaters in the world.

Sidenote: Finally picked up on an inside joke involving me and rice eating today, don’t know how I missed it. Usually after I finish Rice Mountain #1 at dinner my family says, “Ampi vary!!!” (“More rice!!”) and so I say “Ekaaaaa…” and put some more on my plate. Usually this happens about 5-6 times a meal and I only JUST realized it they were kidding and it’s a secret game they play to see how many times I “Ampi vary” each meal bahahahha. Also, they want me to go home 5kg heavier so people know how great Madagascar is and what a great time I had. The other day my Dadabé told me I was “making progress.”

Diamond: The music. Look up the song Salakao on You-Tube and listen to it over and over and over

Coal: Intense stomach flus and projectile vomiting, especially that time on the side-walk on my way to school. Really just gastro-intestinal issues in general, especially when a taxi-brousse ride is involved and the only bathroom is an intensely sharp sisal field.

Diamond: LEMURS. LOTS OF LEMURS.

Love love love,

Mairi

Tsaky Tsaky Wooooooooow

Hi everyone!! I’m gonna tell you about my week of craziness! I was in Faux Cap, a really really isolated part of Madagascar right on the southern tip where the Indian Ocean and Mozambique Channel meet. It was village stay week so we were placed in groups of two and taken off to distant even more isolated villages to live with the people there. I didn’t see anyone from my program but my partner, Sophie, for an entire week. Our village consisted of five tiny huts. There were about 15 people in our village, including our parents Nene and Baba (Mom and Dad). Uhhh they were so great and took really good care of us and treated us like their actual kids. They have two daughters, one tiiiiiny baby and then another impossibly cute six year old girl. Our cousins lived next door. They are 19 and 20 year old girls and it was sooo cool interacting with them – their lives are totally different than ours but we’re all still 19/20 year old girls so there are definite similarities. They cried when we said bye to them it was sososo sad.

            Literally 23 hours out of every day was spent practicing their traditional dances and those specific to their villages, the majority of which consisted of INTENSE booty shaking and pelvic thrusting.  O mannn was my village in it to win it. Our professors told them at the beginning of the week that if we didn’t come back as really skillfull Malagasy dancers the family wouldn’t get the sheep that had been previously promised to them, which we had NO idea about until after the week was over. SO CRUEL. The result was that the village became intensely competitive and we literally never stopped dancing, and everytime we didn’t shake our booties at top speed our family would get really distressed and wouldn’t know what to do with us so we were forced to shake it sun up to sun down. My booty moved in ways it has never moved before this week. At points were forced to pretend be didn’t understand the word for dance to get a break. And the worst part was that by the end of the week we were sooooo incredibly exhausted that we gave an incredibly lackluster performance in front of the 11 other villages, despite our cultural garb and the way in which we poured our souls into the performance. I could see the concern in our village’s eyes as they awaited the results, but OBVIOUSLY it turned out to be a massive 12 village wide tie and everyone got a plump, fluffy, succulent sheep. Ridiculous. OH and I forgot to mention that the dance “party” at the end of the week was 5km away and we were forced to dance the entire way there, chicken/goodbye present from Nene and Baba raised Simba style over head. At one point my lamba (traditional/ super conservative lady clothes) got danced off, revealing my sultry running shorts underneath. SO embarrassing.  Got so many giggles from my village and brought shame to a large, large number of elders. Sorry village. Haha and the best part was the ridiculous of our special village song called “Tsaky Tsaky Wow.” It haunts me in my sleep. It goes like this: “Tsaky tsaky wowwwwwwww” and everytime you say wow you take a step forward, swing and arm back and over head and give a bigggg thumbs up. Oh yeah.

            There were many awesome highlights to the week, including when I got stuck (literally stuck) in my parents house. I was trying to exit through the doorway and my torso made it but then my butt got stuck and I was pretty sure I was gonna rip the front wall of with my butt but skillfully manuevared and avoided an incredibly awkward situation. It was a close call, but luckily my butt had literally been shaken off by this point so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. We also had a really great impromptu dance circle with a ton of random little kids in this other village not involved in the village stay and before we knew it about 50 people were involved. It was incredible. Other highlights of my week included harvesting bagedas (sweet potatoes) and eating them, skinny dipping in the Indian Ocean, and pooping in cactus patches, and returning home to my Ft. Dauphin family and getting lots of hugs!!

Love love love,

Mairi

What a zebu looks like...

Funeral Malagache

Loading  Cross on to truck

Ancestral Burial Ground

Malagasy moonshine

Distant relative excited to have picture taken

Zebu slaughter

Special plate I shared with my Grandfather

The other day I attended the funeral of my great grandfather. It was the best party I’ve been to in a long time. He died one month ago at the ripe old age of 103 (100 according to his death certificate, but we know that this is just because his first three years were spent in some remote corner of the Antinoche wilderness). He was a farmer and would have lived forever had be not fallen and bumped his head while getting in to bed. The only request he made was that the family put a cross on his grave. So, naturally, my family saw to it that the world’s largest cement cross be cemented into the earth right above his spot in the family tomb.

The whole process lasted approximately a day, beginning at sunrise (people typically wake up at 5:00 here) and ending at sunset (typical bedtime being 8:00). At first things got off to a slow start. The 16-wheeler that chauffeured us to the cemetery was about 1 ½ hours late (right on time) and it took about 2 hours to figure out how to lift the 12 x 6 foot cement cross and all the sand and cobblestones and scaffolding into the camion (so basically way ahead of schedule at this point). It took us about another hour to reach the cemetery “truck-back” style. Before departing however, my Dadabé, now the patriarch in the family, splashed rum rouge (Madagascar rum infused with Madagascar vanilla) on each corner of the truck.

The cemetery itself is not so much a cemetery as it is a mountain range, one of the most beautiful mountain ranges I’ve ever seen actually. There are other families scattered about, but you would have no idea just by looking about. Unless you’re part of the family it’s pretty hard to know where the family tomb is; a cluster of tombstones resembling more of a rock formation was the only indication. It’s foumba, custom to not wear shoes when walking in the cemetery because it is such sacred grounds and is the final resting place of so many people. This was one of the few customs that my hardcore Malagache family didn’t follow. I asked my cousin how long our family has been buried here and he couldn’t answer. I get the feeling that it’s pretty much since the dawn of time.

In Malagache culture the entire family is buried in the same tomb, one on top of another, women to the left/ North and men to the right/ South. You’re buried in the land of your father with all of the other relatives of your father’s side, regardless of whether you are a man or a women. Typically, the family waits one week after your death to bury you and preserves your body in cactus juice. It is important to take this time to morn, but it is also fady, taboo to bury someone on or directly after the day of death. The day of death carries a lot of bad luck and evil spirits. One time a family buried their relative the same day they died and afterwards seven more members of the family died! The family must also consult a rampalala, akind of astrologist/ medium/ healer (originally hired by Malagache Kings and brought over from India) to know when to have the funeral service, which is exactly what my family did and this is how we knew when to put up the (giant) cross. Thankfully the diviner chose a really beautiful day with minimal wind.

It is also foumba to slaughter at least one zebu on the day of the funeral. Quite often as many as 16 are slaughtered, it really just depends on the family. Mine felt only one was necessary. One of my relatives wrestled it down single handedly and thwacked it several times with and axe right behind the horns. It died pretty quickly but its reflexes continued to work and its legs continued to kick well into the time when they were removed and the parts were broken down. Even after the meat had been butchered it continued to twitch, the muscles alternating between contracted and relaxed. I imagined the zebu trying to run away but not being able to because it’s body was in different pieces. I was surprised that I felt no physical reaction to the zebu slaughter other than a racing heartbeat. I wasn’t nauseated or revolted or even faint – I just had a really fast heartbeat. When the meat was broken down a violent argument ensued between two of the men doing the butchering regarding who should get what pieces of meat. In Malgache culture it’s pretty set in stone who gets what – the patriarch always gets the neck and the head and the butt because they have the best meat on them – so it’s verrrrry shameful to bicker over it. I totally missed this at the time so when someone asked me what I thought about the bickering I was kinda just like “Oh it’s totally fine! I feel like I’m at home! This kinda thing happens all the time in my house! Look how similar we are!!” when I should have been like “I find this deeply shameful and wish it never happened.” I think the argument might have been centered around me, too, whether or not I should receive the special pieces as well or whether they should be reserved for Dadabé only. Essentially, what the argument (and all the subsequent arguments that day I’m pretty sure) boiled down to were whether I was an honorable guest or an ungrateful intruder. I don’t think I even know the answer to that. In the end I ended up sharing a plate with Dadabé and everyone seemed to be okay with that.

A lot of the day was spent sitting around waiting for someone to finish doing something so something else could happen. During these intermissions bottles of Malgache rum and Malgache moonshine, toka-‘gache (nostril singingly strong stuff), were passed around. My cousins and pretty much everyone got sloshed. I sat back, took photos, and got lost in translations. There were many amazing conversations that I had or had translated to me by my extended family members. It turned out that I was the first vizaha, white person, to ever visit the cemetery. I didn’t really know how to respond to this, for I had no idea and it hadn’t hit me until right then what an amazing honor had been extended my way. Finally, the whole shebang ended with a giant family picnic (feast) under the mango trees. I shared a plate with Dadabé, of which I felt very honored, and reflected on what amazing things I had just been a witness to.

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