All Work and No Play Makes a PCV a Dull Girl

Sorry for the once again very overdue post. A ton has happened in the past several weeks, but I’ll try to share the highlights.

In early November, I had my mid-service training, heading back to the training village where this whole adventure began. I hadn’t seen many of the other PCV’s from my training group since last December, so it was really great catching up with everybody. It also was a perfect opportunity to reflect on the first year of service and think about where I’d like the second year to be headed.

The first week of the training was only for health PCV’s and a counterpart from our site. A “counterpart” can really be anyone in the village—somebody we work with on a regular basis and who is likely to be heavily involved in future projects we may have. So we had quite a mix of people: doctors from the local clinics, mayors, community members. I brought along Perline, one of the village health educators I have worked with a few times out in the more distant parts of my village. The first few days of the training were a very in-depth malaria training. Peace Corps Africa is now engaging in a huge “Stomp Out Malaria” initiative, so we were brushing up on our malaria knowledge and learning new tools and ways to work on malaria projects. It was incredibly interesting for me, as doing malaria work was one of my primary motivations for wanting to join Peace Corps . . . but also a tad disappointing because my new village has an incredibly low incidence of malaria, and it really would be a poor investment of my time trying to do major projects on it when there are much bigger concerns in my region—clean water, family planning, STI’s. However, the rest of the week was much more applicable to the work I’ll likely be doing for the rest of service.

The second half of that week was a “Project Design Management” workshop, mostly with the intention of training up our counterparts, but it was also incredibly helpful for us PCV’s. We reviewed some of the tools for doing community analysis (to help a community identify and prioritize its needs, wants, and problems), and also learned about aspects of project implementation such as budgeting, task designation, goal-setting, etc. It was very valuable information and I know both PCV’s and counterparts learned a lot. It was also a fairly heavy reflection time for some of us PCV’s. Some of the sessions got a tad frustrating, as there’s sometimes a bit of a disconnect between what the PCV sees as his or her role, and what the community thinks the role of the PCV should be. The perception on the part of the Malagasy is typically that “vazaha” have lots of money, and that it should be used to fund the construction of physical things such as pumps/wells, school buildings, etc. Although some of the sessions got a bit heated, it was great reflection time for counterparts and PCV's alike in terms of development, the roles of outsiders, sustainable work, among other things. Wrestling with these questions and challenges has been one of the best aspects of Peace Corps for me.

The second week of the training, the education PCV’s joined us and had some additional sector-related sessions, but also had general administrative, safety/security, medical, etc. sessions from various staff members. The highlight of the week for me was definitely the prank war that Tisa, Ally, and I ended up in against our friend Raff. It all started with Tisa harmlessly swiping Raff’s brand new THB shirt. Now in order for you to understand the implications of this, you probably need a bit of background about THB. THB, or Three Horses Beer, is virtually the only beer available in Madagascar. It tastes awful and is not ever a selection that would be made by an intelligent person in America. In certain “vazaha” establishments, imported beer may be available, but is not generally the best option for a PCV's budget. Thus, many of our gatherings involve the consumption of THB. Additionally, the "THB tour" travels through Madagascar, doing promotions, putting on concerts, etc. These promotions often involve swing music and Elvis tunes blasting out of gigantic stereo systems, deals such as 10 small THB's for 10,000 Ariary ($5.00 US), and the distribution of free THB hats and shirts. These t-shirts are highly coveted by PCV's, as the acquisition of one is like a Madagascar PCV milestone. It is in so many ways symbolic of the experience here in general - that things never quite work out like you plan and you may often have to try to accomplish the same task more than once. (Case in point: attending a THB tour event is in no way a guarantee that one will receive a t-shirt, as they often run out very early on. I have seen the tour several times and do not yet have my shirt.) Thus, Raff was beyond excited about the acquisition of his THB shirt, and was therefore beyond distraught when it suddenly went missing. Thus commenced the prank war.

Several pranks were executed by both sides throughout the week, but here are the highlights: #1: Raff and his roommates, Paul and Israel, moving all of Tisa and Ally's belongings from their room outside, including all furniture, and identically replicating the setup of their room outdoors. #2: Us girls individually taping/pinning all of Raff's belongings to the ceiling. #3: Raff spraying me with shaving cream in the middle of the night (which I did not wake up to until much later, and thus had rolled around in it for quite a while). #4: The final kicker, the victory.....we took all of Raff's "madinika" (small bills, the equivalent of nicks and dimes, but the most frequently used currency here), and freezing it on a gigantic block of ice which was left out on display at the breakfast buffet. This elicited the remark of, "Awwwww. Alright, you win." Needless to say, it was a hilarious week and kept everyone's spirits high as we had to part ways and embark on the final year here in Mada.

I also had a great Thanksgiving celebration with some of the PCV's in my area: Monique, Carolyn, Natalie, Dan, and my sitemate Charity. Although I don't have any stories nearly as ridiculous as last year's diarrhea-ridden bird, it was still a phenomenal day. Natalie has a "real" oven (run off of charcoal), but we were able to pull of a legitimate (and DELICIOUS) roast turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, stuffing, salad, and many desserts. Great food, great friends, great times.

I have now been back in the village for a few weeks and am getting work underway. Charity and I have a meeting this coming Friday with village leaders about a possible water project. I have also been continuing cooking club, and have had a few new faces every week. I've also been teaching health classes at the high school and will hopefully have the Girls' Club underway by the end of January. So, it looks like things are going pretty well!

I will be spending Christmas in my village, but then going on vacation to Mahajanga with a bunch of girls for New Year's. I am VERY excited, since I really haven't seen much of this island yet and STILL haven't seen lemurs in the wild. (I know, I can't believe it myself!) Anyway, hope all is well and that you all have a very happy and blessed holiday season!

Love love.

PS: I apologize for the lack of photos. I have several ready to post, but this internet cafe is a little weird and I'm having trouble. Maybe next time!

Cooking Club Success!!

I had the first "meeting" for my cooking club last week. Even though several women had expressed interest and been asking when I'd be teaching how to cook, I was a bit apprehensive about how it would actually work out. (If I have learned anything in my time here, it is not to have any expectations for anything until it actually happens. May seem pessimistic, but it is just the reality of life in the developing world.) I picked a time and started spreading the word to come to my house on Monday afternoon. I said I would buy all of the supplies but asked each person to bring 100 Ariary (the equivalent of about 5 cents). This is the amount that most snacks such as doughnuts cost at the market, and I figured if everyone's used to chipping in, it might be more likely to continue even after I leave. Anyway, as the appointed hour approached I grew increasingly nervous. But, I actually had 7 women and 3 kids show up!

We made a modified version of pumpkin-yogurt cornbread. There's no pumpkin in my village, so I made a creative substitution of bananas. It worked out extremely well, but I imagine it would be even more delicious with pumpkin. I am jealous of all of you back home who will be able to make this for Thanksgiving dinner with the abundance of pumpkin around. (Or, if you want to pull a Kristen and substitute tropical fruit, I bet mangoes and/or pineapple would also be fun!) Here's the recipe:

1 cup flour
1 cup corn meal
1 cup plain yogurt
1 cup cooked, pureed pumpkin (or creative substitution!)
1 egg
2 Tbs. brown sugar (I put in heaping spoonfuls)
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt

Combine wet ingredients in one bowl and dry in another. Gently fold in flour mixture until just moistened. Bake in a greased and floured baking pan for about 30 minutes or until done. (Sorry there's no actual temperature listed.) The recipe is from Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites. It makes a fairly small recipe so I suggest doubling it if you're making it for more than a couple people. Enjoy!

I'm heading up to the training village for the next two weeks for my mid-service conference. I'm very excited because I'll get to see a bunch of my friends that I haven't seen since last December! Hopefully I'll check back in in a couple of weeks.

More Videos - Kids in My 1st Village

Here are some more videos. When I didn't have any work happening (which was often), I spent most of my free time at my first site with the kids in my neighborhood. Sometimes I'd use the opportunity to talk about things like handwashing and hygiene, but of course we had lots of fun silly time. The first couple of videos are of them doing Malagasy things: dancing and a children's rhyme. Then there are a few of me working on the Peace Corps' 2nd goal to foster understanding of American culture among host country nationals: tee ball & line dancing. The final one is a testament to the universality of some aspects of culture; "Bieber Fever" has is just as prevalent in Madagascar as it is in the states.













Aren't these kids fantastic?

Love love.

More Updates plus VIDEOS!!

Lots more to share about my new site! I have a sitemate in my new village - another PCV who is working in the Small Enterprise Development (SED) sector. Her name is Charity but she goes by Chacha. She's been in our village since May of this year and has also been keeping a blog. She's written some really wonderful stuff so I encourage you to check out her blog at http://gypcee.wordpress.com. We've both been in and out for various trainings, meetings, and other things, so we haven't really spent any time together IN our village. But in a few weeks we'll both be back, and I think we're going to get along really well. She's already done a ton of community needs assessment work and laid the groundwork so the two of us can get lots of projects going. I'm very excited to have such a great partner at site!

This week is the "Mother and Child Health Week" held every April and October. I believe I've written about this before, but a quick refresher. Vaccines, deworming pills, and vitamin A are given out freely to children under 5 and women who are pregnant or recently gave birth. My clinic had a lot of extra help and it was obvious I wasn't needed to help with much of the grunt work for the week, so I decided to take the opportunity to really focus on doing education about vitamin A. For the past few weeks I've been testing out various recipes with vitamin A-rich foods so that I could do cooking demonstrations. I finally settled on a simple carrot soup recipe. On Monday morning I gathered all the mothers around who were waiting for the services and had them help me make the soup, talking about why vitamin A is so important to be incorporated into kids' diets. I had been pretty nervous that nobody was going to like it or that they would think it was weird, but it actually ended up being a huge success! Many women studied the recipe to make sure they remembered it. Several wondered when I would be doing another cooking demo and asked if they could come learn how to cook at my house.

When I get back to site after these meetings in the capital, I think I'm going to start a weekly cooking class at my house. I'm VERY excited about this! Malnutrition is such a major concern here because it is challenging to find a variety of nutritious, affordable, and seasonally available foods in rural villages. But a little creativity can go a long way, and it will be lots of fun to experiment with different ingredients and learn new recipes from each other. I also thought it might be fun to share the recipes on here so all of you back home can try them. I have a few up my sleeve that I think may be great for Thanksgiving! Here's the carrot soup recipe:

6 medium carrots, shredded
1-2 small onions, finely chopped
1 cup milk
2 1/2 cups water
2 bouillon cubes

You can throw everything all together at once and heat for about 15 minutes, but I find it helps to start dissolving the bouillon in water first. Try experimenting with adding extra spices or ingredients (I really like adding green onions!) As the Malagasy say, "mazotoa!" (enjoy!)

In other very exciting news, I have had a rather fabulous internet connection for the last day and a half and have been able to upload a ton of videos I've taken over the last 15 months! I don't have any from my new village yet so peoples' appearances and the things you see in the background look VERY different from my new site, but I will work on getting current videos too. I have about 15 videos so I won't put them all in here; I'll spread them out over the next couple of days. (They are already loaded on youtube so if you're so inclined you can view them all on my account, walliesfilms.)

The first video is a tour of the clinic I worked at in my first village. Every village varies a bit in terms of size and number of the clinic buildings, how many staff work, how many patients come, and what the weekly schedule is. However, this should give you a good idea of what most clinics are like in Madagascar.


For all you non-believers, here is PROOF that I can kill a chicken with my own two hands!


And finally, 2 videos from the Jerry Marcoss concert I mentioned in my last post:




Hope you enjoy watching those!

Love love.

New Site!

I wrote this post a while ago but the internet cafe was closed the last time I was in town. I have more updates to add but should have internet at least through Monday, so I'll make sure to post again. I'm hoping I'll be able to get a few video clips up, but not holding my breath.

Well, I'm all moved into my new village and have spent the past couple of weeks settling in. Although the adjustment this time around is FAR easier than it was a year ago, there have still been some challenges. The people in this region (mostly Betsileo) speak a different one than what's spoken where I was in the West (mostly Sakalava, Antandroy, and Vezo). It's by no means an entirely new language, but there are enough pronunciation nuances and different vocabulary words that I'm a bit confused. [Note: There are 18 different tribes & dialects of Malagasy. Allegedly Malagasy can all understand each other regardless of which dialect is being spoken; I have observed this to be generally true, though not absolutely. The Malagasy people's explanation of their own language sounds much like the United States, where you could go to any state and expect to speak fluent English, though there are distinct accents in places such as New York, Chicago, Texas, Boston. My own experience is that it's more like comparing American English with that spoken in England, Ireland, Australia, etc. The basics are the same, though slang and certain expressions are often unique to the region, and while you'd likely be able to communicate with anyone speaking English, somebody with a particularly heavy accent may be difficult to understand.] The Betsileo also speak VERY quickly, and I'm having a hard time keeping up. I had heard prior to arriving here that the Betsileo are known for being especially talkative. Luckily for me, this has proved to be entirely true -- I can hardly buy a banana without engaging in at least a 10-minute conversation. Surely this will help me pick up the local dialect quickly.
I also have been re-experiencing all the elements of being the new person in town again. In my old village, I had grown accustomed to running errands at certain places and kept fairly regular business with certain market women. It was easier for me since they usually knew exactly what I wanted without having to ask, and I would often get a "kado" (gift), something like an extra tomato or handful of beans. I had friends and knew all my neighbors and had a routine. I knew what foods were available and where to find them. Here, I've found myself wandering around town going to every shop trying to find things. Everyone has been very friendly and helpful, though it is still tiring for me trying to reestablish a routine.
In addition to my having to figure things out, my town is also having to learn what to make of me. There is another PCV in my town, Charity ("Chacha"), who is a Small Enterprise Development volunteer. The day I moved in, though, she left for an in-service training in the PC training village near Tana. About half the town realizes I'm a different person, but the other half keep calling me Chacha. This is especially funny to me because we look NOTHING alike--she is taller and has shorter black hair. But I guess we "vazaha" all look identical, and I guess I should appreciate that they at least think they're calling me by my name, instead of just yelling out "salama vazaha" ("hey foreigner.") It'll be funny when she's back from training and we both are strolling around town.


Despite these minor challenges to readjusting, I think I am really going to like my life here. It's a very artsy area - the region around Ambositra is known for all of its handicrafts, especially woven straw products and silk scarves. I see tons of straw hats, mats, purses, etc. in all of the markets around here. A lot of the Small Enterprise Development volunteers are placed in this region and partnered with a local boutique. I'm back in the highlands/plateau region like where I was during training. There are rice paddies EVERYWHERE - usually at the bottom of hills with terraced farms rising around them. Much of the surrounding area looks a lot like these pictures. If I'm not mistaken, the bright green in this picture is rice that is mature/ready to be harvested. But despite 15 months here, I still wouldn't consider myself a rice expert :)




My new house is INCREDIBLE. I am on the third floor of a house behind the market and commune/mayor's office. The upper balcony is the level that I am on.

I have two large rooms (each of which is bigger than the one room I had before), and a GIGANTIC balcony that wraps around 2 sides of the house. I can watch the sunrise from one side and the sunset from the other. My town is basically built on a hill, and my house is close to the top of the hill so the view (which is gorgeous) overlooks the entire town and surrounding villages. Here's a picture of the balcony, as well as the view from it. Most of the buildings in the second picture are houses.




Here are a few shots of the inside of my house - 2 of the kitchen, and 2 of my bedroom. I haven't been able to get all of my furniture made yet so I'm still living partially in boxes and it's not all set up, but this is an idea of what it looks like.





My landlady and her family live downstairs, but the staircase in outside on the balcony so I really have my own separate living space. I haven't met her husband yet since he's out of town, but she has an adorable 3-year-old son, Fanilo (which means "torch"), who I'm pretty sure I'm going to bring back with me to America. I sort of have electricity; if my landlady's generator is on, I have a light in each room and a single plug. However, they've only turned it on twice for about 2 hours each in the whole last month. Most of the time I still charge small electronics on a solar charger, or just do without. Currently I have to go into my landlady's house to use the rest room, but they're going to build my own bathroom when her husband gets back. (At first I'd thought this wasn't necessary, but Peace Corps was insistent and I have since realized the bathroom's a bit hard to get to, and this could get rather awkward when I'm sick, which is bound to happen.) It's a "real" toilet which means you flush it yourself by pouring in a bucket of water, and it doesn't have an actual toilet seat. [Side bar: I'm convinced there must be an alternate universe somewhere with a surplus of toilet seats but utter lack of toilets, because I have yet to find a toilet in Madagascar that still has its seat attached. I hadn't realized it was such a disposable accessory.] I have my own "shower" (pictured) outside on my balcony - I still have to shower just with a bucket of water, which I always boil first because it's very cold here.

With the move, I had been pretty worried about getting work going and accomplishing things with only a year left. But everyone in my new town is extremely "mazoto" (motivated, hard-working), and I've already gotten started. My second day in town, a guy from the mayor's office took me to a meeting of all the health educators for my commune so I could meet them. There are 22 "fokontany" (neighborhoods), each with 22 health educators. At the meeting I introduced myself, explained a little about my work, and encouraged them all to stop by my house or the clinic to schedule times to work together so I could get out into the countryside/more rural villages. While I was serious, I didn't really expect anything to happen without me taking initiative since that's how it was in my other village--any work I did was entirely started by my own effort. Already, I've had 3 people come by. This week is the mother & child health week that happens twice a year, when Vitamin A, deworming pills, and vaccines are given out to pregnant women and children under 5. I'll talk about the work I did for that in my next post. In November I will start teaching health classes at the high school, and hopefully the middle school as well although I haven't yet had a meeting with the principal of the middle school. I don't think I'll be working at this clinic as much as I had at my old site, but that's probably a good thing since it seems like I'll have enough other work to keep busy.

Last bit of news is that Jerry Marcoss was in Ambositra (my banking town) a couple weekends ago, so I went into town to see him. He's a HUGE pop star in Madagascar; I'd guess at least half of the hit songs on the radio are by him. (And get this: the tickets cost less than a dollar!) I went with another PCV, and it was a lot of fun. Definitely one of those things you just have to do in Madagascar!

New Address + Taxi-Brousse Adventures

I HAVE A MAILING ADDRESS FOR MY NEW SITE!! I'm in the process of moving - I left my old village today and will be moving into my new one tomorrow. I may yet open my own PO box once I get there so that I can claim mail myself; this address belongs to one of the schools, so the Principal brings mail to the PCV when he's in town. But know that you can start sending things to this address:

Kristen Walling: Antanambao
FKT, CR Imito
B.P. 113 Ambositra (Peace Corps)
Madagascar

The address for the PC office in Antananarivo is also still valid, and I'll actually be able to go to Tana much more frequently now. I'm in the process of moving now - I'm supposed to move my stuff in tomorrow, and depending on how things go I'll sleep there tomorrow night or Saturday. But now for my latest adventure . . . .
One problem faced by every single country on the planet is that its people must have some means by which they can get from one place to the next. In the developing world, the most common solution to this problem is the bush taxi. Depending on your location, this method of transport may go by any number of names--in Ghana it was the "tro-tro;" in francophone countries such as Madagascar it is the "taxi-brousse" (or the more Malagasy-ized "taksy-borosy"); us PCV's in our typical fashion of shortening or assigning an acronym to every phrase possible lovingly refer to them simply as "brousses;" and I am sure there are dozens of other names in dozens of other countries. In any event, they are by far the cheapest form of transport both within a single city (compare 15 cent brousse fare to $5.00 taxi ride) or for traveling between cities (roughly $10.00 for a long day's journey in a brousse, versus $50.00 per day + fuel in a private 4x4). Thus brousses are the primary mode of transportation for the average Malagasy person or American Peace Corps Volunteer. In addition to affordability, all brousses share many things in common.

A typical brousse is a van, often a Peugeot or other similar model, with at least 30 years on it and in desperate need of a tune-up. In fact, "tune-up" is probably not even a sufficient way to describe the needs of most brousses. It's not unusual for me to watch the driver install headlights or other parts shortly before departure, or for 5 men to push the van while the driver is simultaneously hot-wiring the car. (My favorite brousse that runs between my site and Morondava actually needs to be pushed backwards in order to get started. Literally. The engine will not start if the car is moving forwards!)

Brousses are generally operated in pairs--one driver, and one assistant who collects fare and assists with loading and unloading luggage from under the seats or on top of the vehicle. (In Ghana this guy was called the "mate;" I haven't heard a name here, so I just stick with that.) Ideally, these vans would hold 12-15 passengers comfortably. Instead, they far more often hold 30-35. This defiance of the laws of physics matched only by clown cars and cans of sardines is achieved by removing the normal seats in them and replacing them with slimmer benches arranged closer together. Usually the bench seats are positioned on the left side of the vehicle, and the right side of the vehicle--on which passengers enter and exit through a sliding door (if said vehicle even has a door)--has single seats which are attached to the benches but which fold down and flip sideways, creating a sort of "aisle" to reach the farthest depths of the brousse (the back seat). At first glance you would probably assume that two people could fit in a bench and one on the side seat, allowing 3 per row, but inevitably a fourth person is forced to sit on the incredibly uncomfortable metal bar connecting those seats (sometimes with the assistance of a pillow to ease the pain, though more often than not said person must suffer without). You know the expression "beer goggles?" Well, I have now coined the term "mate goggles." Mate goggles are when the mate looks at the brousse and sees it in a new and beautiful light, brimming with possibilities. He sees that yes, if we try really hard, we might in fact be able to fit a fifth person into each row...and then we can place a couple of babies on laps...and then we can cram a few more passengers into the row behind the driver BACKWARDS with their legs staggered between the other passengers'...and then we can have up to three men standing, hanging out the side door, holding on to the roof. And voila, the maximum capacity of the brousse has been increased exponentially in a matter of seconds. [I have tried to snap photos to prove to those of you who have never traveled in the developing world that I am by no means exaggerating . . . but alas, every brousse I have ever been in has been so crowded that it's been impossible to show anything but the 3 people in my immediate vicinity with whom I am competing for oxygen.]
Now if that doesn't yet sound like enough of an adventure to you, just hold your horses. Or rather your chickens, ducks, goats, and pigs. That's right, not only are brousses the cheapest means of transporting people, they are also used to haul people's things from place to place. (Perhaps the greatest feat I have witnessed was seeing an entire live cow hoisted onto the roof of a brousse in West Africa.) While these animals are sometimes bound and set on top of the car or behind the back seat, or neatly packaged up into baskets designed for easy transport, it is also not unusual to have smaller ones shoved around your feet or placed in a bag on the seat next to you. I'm sure you can imagine just how happy the average chicken is to have its feet tied up with five other chickens and placed at my feet, and they never fail to make sure that I personally am aware of just how ecstatic they are to be in their present situation. If they stop their squawking and wing-flapping long enough to take a breath, they then inevitably begin trying to peck their way into the gigantic sacks of rice or crates of tomatoes which have also been miraculously piled into the brousse.

But don't get me wrong--despite the extreme overcrowding, brousses often come with some great features most other vehicles lack. Have you ever worried that your gas gage was just slightly off and that perhaps you wouldn't make it to the gas station before running out of fuel? Or have you ever wondered if you even have a gas tank, since you can't actually see it? Well, have no fear--gas gages are completely unnecessary in brousses, since the "gas tank" (plastic bottle with tube running to engine) is usually positioned right in the front seat, so you can see exactly how much fuel you have left. Vanilla and Forest Pine air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror also become unnecessary expenses; instead you can just inhale the gasoline fumes wafting through the vehicle for the duration of your journey. Furthermore, if you are one of those people for whom windows are an insufficient means to view your surroundings as you drive by, many brousses also come fully equipped with "peep-holes" in the floor and roof so you can watch the road and sky as you pass by. A bucket of fish once tipped over on the roof of the brousse I was in and the water seeped through one of the holes, drenching me. I found this to be an especially convenient surprise since I hadn't had time to shower that morning before heading into town.

Admittedly, this is often an incredibly stressful way to travel. They're hot and uncomfortable and often take 3 or 4 times as long as the journey would take if I could just hop in a car and drive myself. They leave a minimum of 2 hours after the planned departure time, and then they stop every 45 minutes. Stations at the beginning and end of the journey are inevitably crowded with taxi drivers and hawkers who assume I'm an ignorant tourist willing to shell out large chunks of money. However, I never know what kind of adventure I'm going to get myself into or what hilarious story I'll be able to tell after a journey by brousse. I don't know how many times I've been on the brink of tears and had to consciously remind myself that eventually, I would look back at that moment and laugh. I recently had one of those moments.

My site is close enough to Morondava that under normal conditions it usually doesn't take much more than an our to get in or out of town. That being said, in light of all the aforementioned possibilities for disaster, I still try to build in some room for error. It's dark by about 7pm now and the last regular brousses leave Morondava by 5:30, so I usually am at the station by 3 or 4, knowing I still have plenty of wiggle room. One fateful afternoon we set off shortly after I arrived at the station, leaving Morondava around 4:00. Nearly halfway back to my site, around 4:30, the driver noticed we had a flat tire so we pulled over to the side of the road and everyone got out. As you may guess, this isn't a particularly unusual scenario, and I expected we'd be back on the road shortly. I did have a brief moment of panic when I realized my brousse didn't have a spare tire (which IS unusual--normally they are prepared for imminent vehicular failure), but soon found relief in another brousse which passed and did have a spare tire. Naturally it was nailed to the underside of that brousse in a most inaccessible fashion, but soon enough the spare was extracted from the belly of the brousse, our tire was changed, and we were on our way again by a little before 5:00. About 10 minutes later we pulled over again, and the driver and mate began working again on the rogue tire. It quickly became obvious to me that they did not have the right parts to make that tire stay in place on the wheel--not enough, and not in the correct sizes.

Unfortunately, AAA Madagascar does not exist. Thus, the driver seemed to think the only reasonable solution was to remove various bolts from all of the wheels and move them around, trying to find some combination of fitting parts. Of course, none of those wheels had really been properly assembled, so chisels and wrenches were produced to force parts that did not fit, and before long the vehicle suddenly had not one but THREE wheels not properly attached. At first I sat patiently and figured I had no choice but to wait it out. After 6:00, I began to grow a little concerned. My house is next to my clinic, in a fenced-in compound that the clinic's security guard locks with chains every night around 7 or so. I still had time, but we were at least another 15 minutes' drive to my site, and it did not look like we were getting close to being ready to leave. I started asking the driver how quickly we'd be leaving, explaining that I really needed to get home before the gate was locked. He assured me we'd be on our way within 15 minutes. 15 minutes passed and we were back down to only one rogue wheel, but it still looked like we weren't close. Another 15 minutes, no apparent progress. I decided to try to call a neighbor and see if they could tell the guard I'd be late; I didn't have cell reception where we were broken down. I kept pestering the driver, and he continued to reassure me we were almost done. ("There's only one more bolt," "15 more minutes.") Then, they started removing bolts again and I finally let myself go into panic mode. It was after 7:00.
I started looking for other vehicles passing by, but there were none. A few had already passed, and I was fearful that the last ones for the day were among those that had gone by us. I again tried to appeal to the driver and some of the other passengers, to no avail. FINALLY, around 7:30, another brousse pulled up. There is an unwritten rule among brousse drivers that in the event of a breakdown, one driver will not pilfer another driver's passengers. However, I was desperate and had absolutely no indication that my driver would leave soon--in 15 minutes or any other certain amount of time. So, I (and several other rather peeved passengers) approached the new driver and asked if we could get in his brousse. Our driver kept saying we'd be leaving soon, he only had 2 more bolts to put on. I argued that 2 hours before they had been saying the exact same thing and that I was already late to get into the compound. Driver #2 insisted it wouldn't be fair, that all the drivers were friends, and he couldn't let us leave our other brousse. I continued to insist that I had already been patient with a driver who was lying to me and that it was imperative I get home ASAP. Finally, he agreed. I was lucky that I was only traveling with a backpack in my lap, but some of the other defectors had luggage on top of the first brousse. Naturally, the driver refused to let any of them have their luggage, figuring it would force them to stay with his brousse. People started yelling at Driver #1 and demanding he return their belongings so they could leave. Meanwhile, Driver #2 was TRYING to leave. He started inching away while the mate tried to close the door, but the passengers waiting on luggage stood in front of him in the road, refusing to let him pass. So there we all were--me, hysterical I wouldn't be able to get into my house, Driver #1 yelling at all the passengers to get back in his defective brousse, Driver #2 yelling for everyone to clear the road, and about 10 angry Malagasy people yelling at both drivers to quit being ridiculous. Normally, I am 100% supportive of coming up with creative ways to take a stand against an injustice. At that moment, I have to admit I was slightly less than amused at the continuing delays. Finally, driver #1 relented and gave people their things so they could get in the new vehicle and we were on our way.
I made it back home around 8:00 to find the gate had already been locked. It took several minutes, but I was finally able to get the guard's attention by yelling, and he came to open the gate. I did have to spend the next 3 days answering relentless questions from all of my neighbors about why I had come back so late, but I guess in the end it all worked out OK. And now that several weeks have gone by, I'm beginning to look back at it as one of those times that drives you crazy when it's happening but makes a great story later on. Man, the things I endure to keep you people entertained! Hah.

Send me mail! Love love.

1 Year Anniversary

QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT MAIL: I still don't have a firm date, but I'll be moving sites around mid-September. Shayla will still be able to claim anything that arrives after I leave, but it probably doesn't make sense to send a package at all right now or any letters after about August 20th. You can still send letters and packages to the address in Antananarivo, and I'll get them in a much more reasonable time frame from my new site. I think I'll have a PO box once I get to my new site too, but I don't know for sure. Also, please comment/email/facebook with a current address for yourself and dates it would be valid. A bunch of you are going abroad, or returning from abroad, or moved places in DC, or moved to another state, or any other number of things I cannot keep track of from this island. Even if your address is the same as last year, I'd appreciate knowing that too. Thanks! :)

I'm sure you're all wanting to know about my new site. I'm going to be moving to the plateau region in the center of the country because the climate is much colder and therefore unlikely to cause heat rash issues. My new site will be near Ambositra (south of Tana & Antsirabe, north of Fianarantsoa). There's already a SED (small enterprise development) volunteer, Charity (goes by Chacha) who's been there since May. I met her when I got back from the states, and I think we're really going to hit it off as sitemates. I just got the information from my supervisor about the site, so I'll include that in my next update. But now, a little bit more about my life for the past few weeks at my current site.

One of the greatest challenges I continue to face here is the inability to speak fluent Malagasy, despite my best efforts to do so. I had previously heard that it takes about a year to develop language fluency in a foreign country. Either I'd heard incorrectly, or perhaps it is based on the assumption you've already been studying that language in a formal setting, or maybe it's just blatantly false. Whatever the case may be, I just passed the ONE YEAR IN MADAGASCAR mark (!!!!!!) last week (July 22), and I can say with certainty that I am nowhere near fluent in Malagasy. I look back to where I was this time a year ago, barely able to say, "My name is Kristen. Where is the latrine?" and realize how far I have come . . . but I still have a long way to go. In addition to ongoing confusion over the Malagasy language, the culture remains at times an even greater code I've yet to crack. And it seems more often than not that these two things work together to leave me utterly baffled. A perfect example of this happened a few weeks ago.

One afternoon I was heading to the market with my friend Isabelle when she asked me about the 3 poisoned children. I said I hadn't worked at the clinic that morning and didn't know what she was talking about. All she knew was that 3 children had been brought to the clinic because they had eaten poison; 1 had already died, and 2 were still very sick. I then wanted to know how the kids got the poison in the first place. Granted, the idea of locking chemicals in a cupboard under the sink is not exactly standard practice here (not having cupboards, much less sinks), but I also have seen very few Malagasy families that have ANY objects sitting around. Most people buy everything they need exactly when they need it in exactly the quantity they intend to use right then. Rather than buy a whole liter of oil or a large bar of soap, they buy a few tablespoons or a small bar each day. (For some this is an economic necessity, for others I think just habit.) So anyway, I was trying to imagine a scenario where a family may have had poison just sitting around, unattended, for kids to get into.

When I was asking about this, Isabelle told me that they had been poisoned from eating street food/market food stalls. I was very concerned because I often buy snacks at the market, but she reassured me that it wasn't anybody at the main market but certain ones set up at people's houses. She continued to explain and say that sometimes bad people poison the food because when kids eat it and die, there has to be a funeral, and those bad people want to get free food at the funeral. I had been following her up until that point. Then I began to seriously question my understanding of the conversation. When this happens, I first try to figure out if I even understood all of the words correctly. I repeated what I thought Isabelle had said to me, and she confirmed it. Then I started trying to remember if any of the words might have multiple meanings. Some of the medical terms in malagasy are especially tricky. For example "fanafody" typically means medicine, but can also mean poison, chemicals in general, or in certain contexts refer to charms/witchcraft/traditional beliefs. But, Isabelle had been using the French word for poison (which is also "poison," incidentally, so I was pretty sure I understood). I had thus reached the point at which I usually chalk it up to a cultural disconnect.

Although I had assumed the idea of a food vendor intentionally poisoning children was pretty far-fetched, I guess I shouldn't have ruled it out entirely. Or, maybe the kids had somehow gotten their hands on some poison that was lying around, but the story got embellished somewhere after several retellings as tends to happen in small towns. I also wondered if maybe something else had made them sick: a virus, contaminated food, parasites, etc., and that the story was the result of a lack of medical knowledge. I figured I'd ask about it at work the next day. When I did, the midwife seemed to have absolutely no idea what I was talking about, and I never was able to figure out exactly what had happened.

I would say this kind of thing happens on a pretty regular basis, at least a couple of times per month. I find myself in a seemingly ludicrous situation, and never do figure out what's going on. At times this gets incredibly frustrating. It's rather disheartening to know that I have been living and working here for over a year and still get confused about the language and culture. It's also incredibly humbling. There are times that I'm considered the "expert," because most people here know that I have a university degree and work at the clinic. But as this example shows, there's still a lot I don't know, and although I can help to provide knowledge and skills to my local counterparts, I'm equally dependent upon them for my own survival, understanding, and success as a volunteer. I don't think there will ever be a time during my service when I can stop asking questions and trying to better understand the situation I'm in. This symbiotic relationship is, I believe, the crux of the entire Peace Corps program. We learn from each other, and through that we develop as a human family. Looking back on my first year, I feel really great knowing that I've made enough progress to feel like while I have something to offer, I also have much to gain from this experience. So, raise your glass in celebration of a great first year and hope for an even better second year! (Just make sure there is no "fanafody" in it before you drink, please.)

The Vazaha Is Back!

After nearly a month of vacation, work in Tana, and PCV meetings, I made it back to my site. I had barely been out of the taxi-brousse for a minute when I was swarmed by kids from my neighborhood who began excitedly chanting, "The vazaha is back! The vazaha is back!" Despite my protests, many of them helped drag my luggage through the dirt back to my house. After such a long time away from site, including a home visit which reminded me just how different my life in America is, I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to feel upon returning to my village here in Madagascar. It was really nice to receive such a warm welcome back from friends, although admittedly it hasn't been the easiest readjustment.

One of the things that has made settling back in difficult is the fact that, yet again, I've been sick. In the latest of my many digestive troubles, I had what one of the Peace Corps doctors calls the "Double Dragon" -- when the body's only two mechanisms for dealing with an upset stomach are occurring simultaneously. I would never, EVER, wish such a thing upon another person. I was pretty miserable for a couple of days, but luckily I have incredibly hospitable friends and neighbors around me who were more than willing to help. When I couldn't even get out of bed, I sent a couple of kids to the market to buy crackers, toilet paper, and phone credit, and I gave them a little extra money so they could buy chips or candy for themselves as a thank-you. People also offered to fetch water for me or do anything else I needed. I'm not back at 100% yet, but I'm doing okay. But enough about my intestinal troubles . . . .

One of the most widely known facets of Peace Corps is the interaction and exchange between two different cultures. Indeed, rarely a day goes by that I don't think about the differences between Malagasy and American culture. So starkly different are the two that at times it's incredibly easy to forget that there are similarities, too. One of the things I've been doing to help myself try to adjust back to my life here is think of the similarities I have noticed over my time here so far. Here's what I've come up with:

1) Some people will be buttheads no matter what you do. But a smile goes a long way in a difficult situation. There are rude Americans. There are rude Malagasy. Some people will never be satisfied with how they are being treated. And being a foreigner, I probably annoy and anger people on a pretty regular basis without even realizing it. But when I stay calm, patient, friendly, and offer a smile, people are a lot more willing to help me figure out what to do. Same thing in America (try yelling at an employee versus kindly asking for assistance and see how far you get).

2) Little kids think big kids are way cool. It's a rare day when I don't have at least 20 children hanging out in my house/yard. Admittedly, some of this has to do with the fact that I am a very white, very tall (compared to the Malagasy), foreigner. But I also like to tell myself it's because I'm just a big kid and they want to be like me. :)

3) A party's not a party without a lot of food. Sharing food in Madagascar, just like sharing food in America, is an expression of welcome and celebration.

4) Justin Bieber is a pop sensation. While Malagasy music hasn't yet hit it big statesides, American pop culture has certainly infiltrated over here. The kids in my neighborhood have adopted "Baby" as their latest favorite song, so I hear them singing it [or trying to, anyway--their comprehension of the English words is a little subpar] almost constantly.


In other news, last Sunday was "vingt-six" (the 26th...June 26), Madagascar's national holiday. I was expecting there to be quite the party going on, since everyone was concerned when I went to the states that I wouldn't be back in time for the holiday. It was also all anybody could talk about for the week leading up to the big day. Turns out it actually wasn't too different from any other party/festival/big occasion I've seen in my town. I later heard from people that a lot more happens in Morondava and Mahabo--the bigger towns near me. (Shayla also told me she and a bunch of kids from her neighborhood went to see fireworks.) But, I celebrated the best that I could with some friends and neighbors. Mid-afternoon I wandered over to the field by the mayor's office where there was music and "wrestling." (It's not exactly wrestling, but similar idea--this is a popular hobby for Malagasy men & boys.) Since I had only been back in town for a few days, I hadn't seen all of my friends yet, but I ran into many at the party and then visited a few people at home to drop off gifts and such.

Also, a couple more things that may be of interest. This article is from several weeks old by now, but you may find it interesting. By the International Crisis Group, it does a pretty good job of laying out the status of the political crisis here right now and the options for and challenges to moving forward. http://www.crisisgroup.org/en/regions/africa/southern-africa/madagascar/madagascar-from-crisis-to-transition.aspx
Finally, if you have any way to track down the Madagascar episode of Andrew Zimmern/Bizarre Foods, I definitely recommend watching it. The entire episode features Morondava (my area!) and the Sakalava tribe (one of the tribes in my village). My life isn't exactly like the show, of course, but it will give you a good idea of what the area around me looks like and a little cultural insight.
I should get going, so that's it for now. Hope you're all well!

Love love.

For Your Viewing Pleasure...

Quick luggage update: it did arrive, mostly in tact. It would appear a voalavo (rat) discovered it at some point and mistakenly thought the reason I packed crystal light mix and instant oatmeal was for the sole purpose of sharing with him. Such is life. I spent the weekend in Antsirabe for a regional volunteer meeting and will be heading back to site before too long. Since Morondava is so far away, Shayla and I rarely see other volunteers. It was really great to see friends and meet several of the new volunteers that arrived in March.

I made sure many of you saw this while I was home. But due to popular demand, I'm posting it here too so you always know where to find it. Tsiliva is a popular artist here in Madagascar. And yes, this is what passes for quality entertainment. Lyrics include such gems as "big Jesus, yes yes, big devil, no no;" "we all learn our lessons well;" and "it makes me sad when children are naughty, if you behave you won't have problems." Mazotoa (enjoy)!




Also, don't think I've talked much about this yet. I still don't have any major projects going at my site. But one of the things I have started to do is to try to take advantage of the fact that a ton of children think I'm the bees' knees and spend an enormous chunk of time at my house. I've started turning some of our play dates into opportunities to do some health education. I've started baking cookies and cakes with the kids, but making sure everybody washes their hands before cooking and eating and that we talk about good hygiene. I think once I'm back I'm going to start "Toothbrushing Time with Kristen" every day; we'll all gather and brush our teeth together. Here are some photos of the cooking fun, and another really cool one of a baobab tree.


Hand washing before cooking!



Fifa, Bana, Fetisoa (in back), & Fandry


mixing cake batter


wicked cool baobab

Until next time...Love love.

Apologies for this LONG-overdue post. I kept putting off updating, figuring that while I was at home I would have lots of time and free internet. Instead, I spent all my time stuffing my face with Chipotle burritos. But anyway, I'll try to give at least a brief rundown of the last several months.

I had started teaching health classes at the public middle school in my town. Many of the students are a bit older than middle school students in the states, partly because the French education system is slightly different from ours, but also because of the economic situation many families are in. Students often have to stop attending school for a swhile if they can't afford the fees (even the public schools require uniforms and basic supplies like notebooks/pens/etc.) So, I was working with the two oldest grades at the middle school, and most of my students are roughly in the 14-17 age group. Between the two grades, there are 5 sections.

So far, I've done an HIV/AIDS lesson with each section. I wanted to start small, and HIV/AIDS is a complicated enough topic that I figured it was enough to begin with. the lessons went really well and most of the students were very excited to have me in class. I'm hoping by next school year to maybe have a more regular time to meet with the students and teach about health. Also, I may start a Girls' Club over the summer and do activities that focus on women's empowerment, peer pressure, positive self image, etc.

In other news, if there were Tropical Disease Bingo, I'd probably be pretty close to having a BINGO by now. Shortly before heading to the states for my brother's high school graduation, I contracted amoebic dysentery. (Oregon Trail jokes aside, I can assure you, that was NOT much of a party.) But the doctors started me on meds and it all began to turn around. It still made for a pretty uncomfortable 36 hours of airports and airplanes over the Atlantic, but I made it home eventually. I got to spend 4 great days over Memorial Day weekend with my friends in DC, and then 2 weeks at home with family for Ryan's graduation. [And in case you hadn't heard yet, he'll be joining the ranks of the OSU Buckeyes this fall! Congrats Ryan!]

I'm sure many of you will be wanting an update on all of the heat rash issues. I went to the travel clinic while I was home to see if the doctors there had ANY other ideas for how I could treat the heat rash when it comes back during next year's hot season (as it most likely will). As I'm back in Madagascar, I obviously got all the clearance I needed to return. But now that I'm back, I've had conversations with medical and administrative staff. It's looking like I'm probably going to have to move sites, to the highlands which are SIGNIFICANTLY colder. Things are still a bit up in the air and it will be a few more months down the road, but I'm pretty sure that's what's going to happen. (Keep sending mail, though! I'm not leaving any time soon!)

The other debacle of the last few days is that my luggage didn't arrive with me on Wednesday night. Apparently it's here now though, and I can go pick it up at the airport in a few minutes. Then I'm heading south to Antsirabe for a regional volunteer meeting, and in a couple of days I'll be heading back to my village. I have a few more things to finish up while I'm here at the meva and have free internet, but I'll try to get a few more pictures up before I head out. It was so great to be home and see all of you! Keep sending mail! :)

Love love.

Poke the Pimple

There is a Malagasy game I'd like to tell you about. It is called Poke the Pimple, and it is quite similar to Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Although people use their fingers instead of paper tails, and there is no donkey - only the many pimples on my face. I'm still not sure of all the rules, but it seems to me the main objective is to see who can get their fingers closest to a pimple. 25 points if you notice it and point at it while whispering to your friend; 50 points if you point to the corresponding location on your own face; 100 points if you actually poke my pimple; 200 points if you muster the courage to ask me what it is. This game is extremely popular with Malagasy children, although adults are much better at it. Children usually don't jump out of the 25-point bracket, but market women consistently break the 200-point barrier. I believe I heard a rumor they're considering adding Poke the Pimple to the Olympic Games in 2020. If they do, I'm sure that Madagascar will sweep the medals and probably set several new records.

Other than playing that every day, there hasn't been too much going on lately. I've spent the last several weeks having repairs done on my house. A series of storms knocked my fence completely down, and I had reinforcements put on my windows and doors for overnight and when I leave my house for extended periods of time. Since I lived in the residence halls all through college, I've never had a place of my own where I was in charge of dealing with maintenance. It's been really funny to me trying to navigate all of that in a foreign language--I'm clueless enough with all that stuff in English. Placing orders for supplies and negotiating with the carpenter has been an absolutely hilarious adventure. I debated whether or not I even wanted to have the fence rebuilt, but ultimately decided yes for several reasons. Everyone around me has fences, and I really do feel like it's necessary for security. But the most important thing that influenced me was my role as a health volunteer. There are lots of cats and dogs in the neighborhood (generally not vaccinated), as well as chickens, goats, and other creatures that roam around. When I talk about hygiene, cleanliness, disease, keeping food and water clean and uncontaminated, I figured it might be helpful if I model a healthy lifestyle and clean home by trying to keep animals away from my living & cooking space. If I don't even do it, how can I expect anyone else to?!

I've been fairly frustrated with work lately. I am in a new site for Peace Corps - no PCV has ever been in my village before, though there have been volunteers from other organizations/countries. I can tell those groups had very different roles from me, though, and I have struggled to figure out how to explain why I'm there and what my role is in the community. Getting projects going outside of working at the clinic that also involve Malagasy people is very challenging. I really want my local counterparts to be involved in every step of the process so that things may continue even after I leave here. I've decided to try to stop focusing all of my energy on work and try instead just to live here. I'm hoping that if I spend more time with women at the market, start inviting people over to my house for dinner, and find other ways to build relationships, ideas might start to develop.

That being said, it is getting easier. More and more people recognize me (even if I have no idea who they are -- there are thousands of people in my village!) ... but I'm not just the vazaha anymore. At least not to some people. A lot of times I don't even have to explain myself - somebody else will jump in for me and say "oh, yes, she works at the hospital, she goes around and talks about health, I saw her doing this/that one day, etc etc." It's really reassuring to hear that.

International Women's Day was a couple of weeks ago, and my village had a festival for it. There was a parade of sorts in the morning, and then everyone gathered around all day for singing and dancing. Here's a picture of the parade up to the village commune:



All the women were also doing "yard work" in front of the commune/cleaning up the area. I decided to pitch in and help, figuring everyone would get a kick of the vazaha getting involved. Sure enough everybody thought it was hysterical and kept telling me I was doing it the wrong way. There is a right way and a wrong way to dig up weeds, didn't you know?



I kept hearing that the Prime Minister of Madagascar was going to be coming - to which I thought, "Seriously? Out of ALL the places in Madagascar, he's going to be in MY village?!" But after I had waited around for several hours, still with no sign of his arrival, I finally decided to leave. But I did stay long enough to see a lot of the singing and dancing, and enjoyed lunch. It was kind of like a Malagasy picnic with people sitting on mats on the ground!

Even though I've been here for several months, I had NEVER IN MY LIFE seen so much rice!!!!!! They had dozens of ENORMOUS pots of it, and it was scooped into gigantic water buckets to distribute. I unfortunately didn't snap a picture of the giant buckets, but here are some pictures of lunch & a couple women I ate with:




All in all, it was a very nice day, and it started generating some ideas to possibly implement later in my service. It reminded me that people love food and a celebration which has food will always attract people.....so maybe I can organize some educational festivals similar to this one. We shall see.

Well I think that's about all the news I have related to Madagascar. Before I sign off, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LITTLE BROTHER!!!! He turned 18 this week!!! AND he's gotten into quite the selection of colleges. Congrats, I'm so proud of you!

Love love.

All Clear

The rash has gone away and the doctors have cleared me to go back to my site. It's been cold and rainy here in Tana and is still really hot at my site, so there's a good chance the rash will resurface. But we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. I have a new ointment that hopefully will help stave it off.

I'm ready to head back. Being in Tana was actually pretty stressful this time around. There have been a ton of people in and out of the meva, and the internet has been TERRIBLE (hence why I didn't update all week). I was able to relax and watch a few movies, but I was sort of itching to get out of the city and back to my village. I'm still not completely acclimated at my site, but I felt like I was just beginning to make some strides when I had to come to Tana to deal with the whole rash issue. Hopefully I'll be able to get settled right back in and pick up with work.

Honestly I don't know what else to say. There haven't been many new things happening at my site. Just a quick word on mail before I sign off . . . it seems like mail delivery may be slowing down a little bit, both to and from Madagascar. Most things are arriving though so please keep sending stuff! So far I've received every package I was supposed to, and everything seems to be present. It seems like some letters aren't making it, or maybe they're just held up. Honestly I can't predict it - some things arrive in as little as 10 days, some things come 2-3 months after they're postmarked. There seems to be no rhyme or reason with the type of packaging or point of origin. So, please just keep writing to me and keep fingers crossed it gets here eventually! I love all the letters :)

Love love

My Life: Always a Fiasco, Part 2

"Never a dull moment, huh?" - part of a text from my mother last week. Never a dull moment is right. I've been battling a heat rash on my back since late November. It was annoying but tolerable for a while, and the combination of my travels in December in cooler parts of the country + some different meds helped a little bit. But ever since I got back to my site, the weather has been growing more and more miserable each day, as has the rash. Last week it flared up to an unbearable level, and did not improve despite the Peace Corps doctors increasing my med dosage and adding another medication. So, they told me I would need to come to Tana to see a dermatologist. So naturally, cyclone Bingiza decided to hit Morondava at the exact same time, preventing me from leaving my site and traveling to Tana. Then over the weekend the safety and security officer was sending out alerts about potential problems with demonstrations in Tana, especially around the airport. Apparently former president Ravalomanana (who has been exiled) thought it would be a good time to try to finagle his way back onto the island. So, getting to Tana was a bit of a challenge. Had it been an emergency, the situation absolutely would have been different, so to all concerned parties - have no fear. Since it wasn't an emergency, I was able to wait it out and am now in Tana. I'll be here at least through tomorrow, possibly longer. I'm seeing the dermatologist in the morning so we'll see how it goes. I'll be sure to post something longer tomorrow. For now, I have an early morning ahead of me and want to take advantage of the electricity and crawl into bed with a movie.

Here's a picture of my back one of the days last week. (Cooler whether has since helped the rash cool off, though it is still bothering me.)

Apparently I Am Now Ugly

Well, I have survived another month of village life. And apparently I am now ugly. When I came back to my site after traveling, I discovered that Floria and her family (my old neighbors) had also moved into a new house—one that didn’t have rent. I still swing by their new house occasionally, though it’s out of my way enough that I can’t go all the time. On several of these recent visits, Floria has been very distraught over my physical appearance due to my having lost a little bit of weight since my arrival. Not much, but enough to be a bit slimmer than I was when I stepped off that plane six months ago. (I attribute this primarily to the removal of Chipotle burritos from my diet, but also have to give a bit of credit to the frequent intestinal troubles which my mother so eloquently described: “well with all that diarrhea you’ve been having, you can hardly keep anything in.”) Anyway, Floria keeps telling me things which translate roughly to, “You used to be fat. Now you are skinny and your face has gotten really ugly. What kind of food am I supposed to eat so I can have fat arms like you used to have?” I try to explain that we value the opposite in America and that I would be considered more attractive now, but she insists that I am not healthy and I would be much more beautiful if I got fat again. Oh well.

In other outrageous news, due to my marlaria prophylaxis I occasionally have dreams that are either entirely ridiculous or incredibly frightening. Last week I dreamt that my brother Ryan had enlisted in the Navy and was killed in combat. I share this with you not to be dramatic, but rather because, surprisingly, it was a bit of insight into Malagasy culture. Even though I obviously realized it was only a dream, I was understandably shaken up by it and it was still bothering me a day later. I mentioned it to one of my Malagasy friends and she told me, “Oh, that’s really good!” I wondered briefly about which words I had mixed up in my explanation that she misunderstood my meaning, but then she added, “We believe that if you dream about somebody dying, he or she will actually have a very long life. So it is a good thing if you dream about people dying.” Apparently you should all hope that I start having dreams you drop dead very suddenly. Interesting, eh?

In terms of work, I am still struggling to figure out what to do at my site, but I am very slowly beginning to find ways to branch out beyond the clinic. There is a local nutrition organization that trains health educators throughout Madagascar to weigh children, do cooking demonstrations for mothers, and other nutrition-related activities. There are several people who work for them in my village, but one woman in particular has been incredibly helpful and welcoming to me. So for the last several weeks I have been going out one day a week with Madame Vao to help weigh babies and distribute and explain the children’s health notebooks provided by the Ministry of Health. (The notebooks have growth charts showing target weight ranges, and also have pictures and information about a balanced diet, good breastfeeding practices, vaccination, and other crucial information for children under age 5.) I very quickly realized that Madame Vao is really on top of her game and doesn’t actually need my help at all. But I enjoy working with her—she helps me learn more Malagasy language—and I’ve found it’s a good way for me to interact more with people in my community. So to make myself a bit more useful, I still help weigh babies and add information I think is important, but I’ve also started giving talks about other topics such as diarrhea or malaria. I figure while I have a crowd gathered, I may as well take the opportunity to deliver more health messages.

This week I realized I may be able to help more than I had thought originally. Several weeks ago Madame Vao had casually mentioned something about “ananambo” (moringa) growing by her house. Moringa is an incredibly nutritious plant and fortunately grows very well in many parts of Madagascar. I pulled out some information I had from Peace Corps about the plant and mentioned that the seeds and leaves can both be eaten and the leaves can be dried and pounded into a powder to add to the food of young children. Even a small amount of moringa can provide kids’ daily requirements of calcium; magnesium; iron; and vitamins A, B, & C, and it’s great for pregnant mothers or women who are breastfeeding. She knew it contained calcium but hadn’t realized just how nutritionally valuable the plant is. Anyway, after mentioning it I hadn’t really thought twice about it. But this week, Madame Vao asked to see the information again and copied it down. She told some of the mothers with underweight babies about it this week, and if I understood correctly, we’re going to do a cooking demonstration with moringa at her house next week. I’m really excited about this because it’s pretty much the first time since I’ve moved into my village that I felt like I was actually providing a knowledge or skill that wasn’t already here. If things go well next week, I’m going to see if Madame Vao can help me gather some other health educators in the area who might be interested in coming to learn about moringa.

I also had another great day for work yesterday. When I first moved in I met a man, Severino, who told me he did health education and had worked some with a couple of Japanese volunteers who lived here a couple of years ago. I couldn’t figure out if he was affiliated with any organization, and I’ll admit I was a little bit skeptical of his intentions since Malagasy men are usually not timid about their desire to have a vazaha wife. But I had seen him helping with mosquito net distribution in November, and he was very friendly (though not too friendly) when I bumped into him a couple times by the market. Since I’ve been feeling a little stir crazy spending a lot of slow hours at the clinic, I decided I’d see if he’d be interested in going around the area to do health talks. I’ve really enjoyed working with Madame Vao and thought I’d be much more satisfied here if I could do work similar to that on a more regular basis. Anyway, Severino and I agreed to go around to houses yesterday and talk about malaria. I had no idea how successful it would be, but I was incredibly pleased with the day.

All along, I’ve assumed that knowledge and practices related to health were probably better around where I live since the clinic is right here and therefore people are more likely to come to give birth, receive vaccinations, and seek treatment when they’re sick. This is probably true, and I’ve noticed that most of the people at the clinic are from fairly close neighborhoods. So I figured once I got more acclimated, I’d spend most of my time trying to get into areas that are much farther away from the clinic and not do a whole lot of work in the area immediately around my house. I did make the mistake of assuming that most people actually utilize these services since they’re so close. Going around yesterday, I realized this is apparently not the case and that there is still a lot of work that can be done in the area immediately around me (and I’m actually a bit frightened of what I might see when I do go farther out!) Despite the fact that there was a Ministry-of-Health-sponsored mosquito net distribution in November, there were still a lot of households that did not have nets. And there were an alarming number of families that had nets (multiples even!) but were not using them—they were stored in boxes or bags in a corner. Although the net distribution went really well, I’m not sure there was any follow-up after the fact to make sure people were actually using them. This is probably something I’ll try to initiate the next time a distribution happens. In addition to being able to see things for myself, working with Severino was great. He explained new vocabulary to me and helped me correct mistakes I made speaking Malagasy. He’s also a very good educator—he had people really engaged and laughing a lot of the time. It was also useful for me to see how he did the talks at the houses. I’ve been doing talks on the exact same information for the last few months at the clinic, but doing them at people’s houses added an element of visibility, and I hadn’t realized how helpful that could be. He was not at all shy about pointing out to people spots where they should sweep up messes or get rid of standing water or cover buckets in their house. I felt like the talks yesterday were infinitely more helpful to my community than the talks I’ve been giving at the clinic. And I don’t think at any point in time we were anywhere farther than a ten-minute walk to the clinic. We’re heading out again next Wednesday to go to areas we didn’t hit yet. I’m hoping he’ll be willing to do this every week so we can go really far and talk about lots of different topics, but we’ll see!

I also got some insight from him about possible future projects. I’ve been struggling for a while to figure out how the health educators are organized, what they’re trained in, who they are, etc. etc. Everybody seems to have a slightly different answer (which in some ways probably is an answer). But Severino said there used to be a lot of people who went out a while back, but things are disorganized because of the recent political struggles and people don’t want to work anymore since they’re not paid. This gives me some things to ponder with regard to how I can potentially help get a health educator system back up and running. There are clearly people who have knowledge about doing health eduation, and there are several organizations around Madagascar that help train and equip health educators to do work, so I’m hoping that during my time here I’ll be able to get a really good program going in my area again.

As usual, I’ve written an encyclopedia, so I think I’ll cut it off here. Haven’t taken any pictures lately, but I’ll try to get some for next time. Before I sign off I want to send special birthday wishes to my Grandmother Walling today and Grandpa Hanna tomorrow. Also, a rather belated congratulations to my brother Ryan who has been accepted at Auburn and Kansas University!! (Although the booger won't ever answer his telephone, so I had to find this out a couple weeks late via an email from my father. Sheesh.)

And to the new group of trainees arriving next month—WE’RE SO EXCITED FOR YOU TO BE COMING!! Hopefully my answers to some of your questions have been helpful. Looking forward to meeting all of you eventually!

Love love.

Bonjour Mary, Bonjour Elizabeth: Christmas, New Year's, and Some Fun Projects in the Highlands

Well, after a few weeks of bopping around and helping out with projects at friends' sites, I'm back in Tana and will be finally heading back to my own site in a couple of days. After my training, I headed south to Glenda's site, a little bit outside of Antsirabe, for a week. Her clinic has an outdoor kitchen area for the women giving birth. They usually stay at the clinic for a few days, so it's nice to have an area to cook food. The cookstoves that were already there were pretty rundown, though, so we decided to help build new ones. We've learned how to make high-efficiency cookstoves out of local materials such as dirt, clay, ashes, or rice flour. They help contain heat, using less wood or charcoal than simply building a fire, so the Malagasy term for them is "fatana mititsy" ("stingy stove"). We gathered all of the patients & staff at the clinic and explained the process for making the stoves and benefits of using them. Then we got them to help us sift the materials and make the mixture. A lot of people seemed very interested and were asking a lot of questions about the stoves, wanting to know what other kinds of materials could be used for the mixture. And of course, it was fun to play in the mud! Here, Monique, Glenda, and I are beginning to sift the materials and mix them together with water.





I also celebrated Christmas at Glenda's site, along with Monique and Erica. We made our best attempt at the "Peace Corps oven" (a fairly imprecise method involving sand, empty cans, and a very large pot over a gas stove) and baked some Christmas cookies. They sort of all ran together, but considering we've been in Madagascar for over 5 months, we thought they got the job done.





Glenda had also bought a "Christmas tree" (though, the Malagasy and American concepts of what shape a Christmas tree typically are seem to differ a bit). We did our best (thanks to Colleen for the decorations you sent in the package!) to perk it up it in an American fashion, though it still had an uncanny resemblance to the Charlie Brown Christmas tree.




After Christmas I proceeded on to Tisa's site near Fianarantsoa. We did a training with the health educators in her commune and taught them about the "hot box." In the same concept as the fatana mititsy, the hot box is a way of cooking over fire for a short period of time, and then moving the food to a box/basket/some sort of contraption that contains heat so the food can keep cooking without using up resources. We used woven baskets, fabric, and blankets-items which probably every Malagasy family has in their house. The cookstoves and the hot boxes are great for the environment and health - they cut down on smoke which causes respiratory infections. On subsequent days, we went out with the health educators into the villages further away to teach villagers about the technique. Figuring a demonstration would help, and knowing how much the Malagasy people love their rice, we actually cooked rice in the hot box so everyone could see it in action. It was a huge success! Tisa's going to go back out and follow up in a few weeks and see if anybody has actually started using the hot box to cook.




Even though it was already after Christmas Day, the celebrations were still in full swing at Tisa's site. One afternoon we went to a "Christmas Spectacle," which had an array of performances but featured a kids' Christmas pageant. The script told the story of the birth and included musical interludes in Malagasy, French, and English. I was especially moved by the part of the story where Mary and Elizabeth greeted one another ("Bonjour Mary, Bonjour Elizabeth"), and discussed the pending arrival of their sons. The mayor's son's rendition of Michael Jackson's "We Are the World" was also informative - I had not previously realized what a pivotal role that song played in the birth of Jesus Christ. Here you can see everyone gathered in the stable - complete with baby Jesus lying on the ground and Herod's soldiers (wearing pink glittery wizards' hats) standing in the background.



Tisa's site is also right near the enormous tea estate at Sahambavy, where Madagascar's famous vanilla tea is made. So we took a stroll one by the plantation and saw where the tea grows. In case you can't tell, Erica, Tisa, and I are spelling out "TEA" in the picture.



Finally, I reigned in the new year with a bunch of other PCV's in Fianarantsoa. Of course I put the New Year's hats and necklaces that Colleen sent to good use and made my American friends wear them around town with me all day. We attracted even more attention than we usually get just for being "vazaha," but I'm pretty sure the Malagasy people got a kick out of it (thanks again, Colleen!)



Tomorrow I'll be flying back to Morondava. Word on the street is I have a ton of letters and packages waiting for me; I'll be picking it all up and then hopefully head back to my site in the afternoon - thanks in advance for anything you've sent! Since I'm itching to get back and really get settled into the new house and start things all over again, I'm not planning on being in town any time soon. So it may be a while before I update again, but know that I'm thinking about and missing you all. Hope everyone had blessed holidays!

Love love.