Let's order in tonight

I remember when I was little and I'd tell my mom, "we need to go grocery shopping! There's nothing in the fridge/pantry!" And she'd walk into the kitchen and simply concoct a delicious meal with 2.3 ingredients and I'd be blown away by her cooking wizardry. 

I'm striving to have the same concocting capabilities as her. 

In my village there is one proper hotely (hotely is like a restaurant). It's nice, I can get any kind of bird that exists in this region or their equivalent of a cow or noodles. It's nice and everything is only $1.50! Which actually is a lot when you only make $200 a month. 

So, I cook. I've never really enjoyed cooking that much but when you're stuck with nothing else to do when the sun sets, you fire up your gas stove (until that runs out and then you're forced to use charcoal- big shout out to Malagasy for having to make fire three times a day to cook).

So, with an abundant amount of vegetables it's usually some sort of stir fry. But lately it's been masala. Or now I'm adding honey  (which is also straight from the hive here) to everything. I've been making breakfast rice (when I run out of oatmeal), which is soupy rice with sugar and cinnamon. I'm mastering soups in general! It's fun and fairly easy! 

I'm gonna be honest and say that I don't get welcomed in to eat with Malagasy that often. I heard many stories about how I'll never really need to cook because people will always invite me in. No, it's the opposite. I'll go to the market for some ingredients and come back with a few women and children eager to teach me how to cook. Pretty cool! There's tons of stuff at the market I can't even recognize what it is let alone know how to cook, so these people are really helpful! I now know how to clean and prepare a fish. I know how they use their plants in combination with other vegetables. I now know that you can eat some seeds in fruit! 

You can cook jackfruit seeds and eat them! 

My previous post on malnutrition still holds true, so I wish this whole sharing new recipes would spread throughout the whole village and we'd all be healthier because of balanced meals, maybe soon enough that will happen. I'm glad that people feel comfortable in my home and are willing to teach me new things.

Cooking for one by candlelight.

Unfortunately, I can't bake, no oven. And I'm not willing to try baking on top of a fire...I'd just be disappointed I think.

Sometimes when us Americans get together in bigger cities we joke about whose turn it is to call in for delivery. 

"But I did it last time!" Someone would say. 

"How are we gonna pay? Credit card over the phone?" Another person would ask.

All fun and games until we realize how sad it is that that's not a possibility anywhere in this country (at least no place I've been). Ha. 

The point of this post? Can someone order me some Chinese food? Please! 

Chickens as voandalana

So the whole post before this was written fueled by frustration and now this is being published to continue the confusion I have with the voandalana system. 

A few months ago I went to my furthest village that I work in, Amboafandra. It's about 9km away on the main road and then about 4km off the main road. I have to go through nearly every material of earth. Cement, gravel, sand, mud, grass, a little bit of water and over a bridge too. I'm not complaining, I have a bike, so I can get there in about 45 minutes. 

So, when I went to this village that is so remote, of course some people were surprised I made the effort to find the place and then hang out with them. So, of course they gave me a chicken as a gift, or as they call it, voandalana. 

This is Woah Bow. My first ever chicken. He's a boy, which I discovered way to late, after bragging about him making eggs for me. And his name was Wilber but the kids kept saying "Woah Bow", and it stuck. He now sleeps in the orange tree above my house. He's huge, clever and coocoos like noone's business.

Then another one of my coworkers saw my new chicken and gave me a little chicken house. That was nice, but he's spent a total of only 3 nights sleeping in this little house. He likes his tree. 

I went to do another program in this far off village again this week. I spent two days working in the schools teaching about hygiene and water sanitation. I actually had a great time! Before leaving they pull a little chicken out of nowhere and hand HER over. Uhhhh, seriously?! Again? I couldn't possibly take this! It's too much, really! 

There she is! Tied to my house for her own protection and hopefully realizing it as her new home. Her name is Fandra (pronounced Fawndra, because she's from Amboafandra). I like her. She sleeps in said chicken house and is quiet.

So, on my bike back home with a chicken shoved in my saddle bag I'm thinking why these people keep giving me chickens? Maybe they have excess amounts of chickens? Should I give them a chicken next time? Do I really want to have another chicken? Should I go back there and now assume to get a chicken and then I can start a chicken farm? 

With all those questions still in mind I am a proud owner of two chickens now, thanks to the voandalana system. A boy and a girl! A little chicken family and soon too they will multiple and I can have my chickens and eat my eggs too! 

What is "voandalana"

Mother f'ing voandalana. 

It's a joke? 

You're supposed to ask for it? 

You're supposed to give it? 

What is voandalana exactly? 

The whole voandalana system is confusing and always frustrating to me.

Voandalana literally translates to, fruits of the road. 

So, when one goes on a trip, they're on the road and when we come back we give people gifts from the road. I think that's a cool cultural thing. 

Until... I have complete strangers asking me for voandalana. I think it's a nice gesture until... I have children asking me everyday for a voandalana when I only go to work at the hospital 1km away. 

I'm thinking, "we were just walking down the same road!!" I'm wanting to yell, "where's my voandalana?" Or "I went to work, and didn't buy voandalana." Or "I can't buy voandalana for all 2,000 of you." 

It was used almost like Bon voyage!

" I'm going away to visit a friend for a few days!"-me

"Okay, bring back voandalana!" -all humans that see me leave.

With no goodbyes, no safe travels! 

It was used as a greeting as I'm getting out of the taxi brousse.

"Where's the voandalana?" 

Oh, hey to you guys too! 

In the beginning I gave voandalana! I gave fruits, vegetables, toys, bread, photos, and more! That was a slippery slope. There was never enough to give and then every time I went away they expected it. I spent a lot of money on voandalana! Not good. Doesn't help me make friends, just shows off the money they think I have. 

Sometimes the people that I consider my friends tell me, "it's just a joke, Kelsey."

Uhhh okay, the joke is getting old and it's not all that funny to begin with. 

So, I've come up with some answers, to help with my sanity of this weird cultural difference. And I actually didn't come up with these, I'm using them though!

"I'm your voandalana!" The white person who works for free in your community. 

"The road is dry." That is sometimes true.

"Next time." That's actually a bold face lie.

"It's all gone, I've given it all away." Sometimes this is true. 

Or I just avoid the question by diverting the conversation to "the weather is great today, huh?" Or "how's your health?" Or I just laugh at it now, proving it's a joke or proving to them I've actually lost my sanity/might seem drunk to them. 

 

Literally fruit of the road for purchasing purposes, fueling the need for people to ask for voandalana.

Hands need cleaning

As a Peace Corps Health Volunteer it's our job to go around and tell people how to live their lives healthier. 

So, obviously I'm gonna start with the people that are on par language wise with me, the children. And I'm going to teach them how and when to wash their hands. The classic "5 Ws" were a big part of this lesson. 

Example: "okay, when should we wash our hands? There are five important times to wash our hands, can you all help me with when?"-Me

Silence.

"Okay, I'll start. We should wash our hands after we go to the bathroom. Anyone know another time? Remember there five important times."- me holding out five fingers.

Now, there is some commotion. Yes! The kids get it! One kid steps up triumphantly and says, "we should wash our hands on  Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday!" Big smile and five fingers held high on his kid. 

Ha! Well, that's not wrong, technically. But what about Saturday and Sunday? So, moving onward.

"Who should wash their hands?"-Me expecting to hear "everyone should!"

Nope.

Silence and then some murmurs "dirty  kids should." 

Not wrong but not the answer I'm looking for. These kids sure know how to answer questions. 

"How should we wash our hands? Who knows how to wash their hands?"-Me

A quicker response this time because now they're thinking my questions are becoming dumber by the minute. 

"You get water in a bucket and you put your hands in it." -Random kid

Hmmm, I'm not sure that's working out so well. So I show them how to use soap and the whole scrubbing technique and the pouring of water over the hands. Which they love! They love the smell of soap and the scrubbing is funny for some reason and the reaction of pouring water over their hands was similar to that of a child going to a water park. Absolutely amazing!! I'm hoping they like it so much they do it all of the time, the five important times (which are, before eating,  before preparing meals, after playing, after going to the bathroom, and when they look dirty- incase you were wondering.)

And my concluding question to at one of my hand washing programs; "when are you going to wash your hands next?" 

The amount of participation has sky rocketed and this makes me happy but then I hear many kids yell "tomorrow!"

And I think, well... That's not wrong, technically. 

We've got some work to do. 

***friend in country does similar program. Her funny story; 

"Who washed their hands today?"-volunteer

No one raises their hand.

"Okay, who washed their hands yesterday?"-volunteer 

No one raised their hand. 

Ha! 

Malnutrition in Madagascar

Since I wrote about me being "maventy", I'll write about malnutrition now, like any good health volunteer would do. 

These statistics were provided by Peace Corps which were taken from the World Bank Nutrition Profiles. 

Madagascar has the 5th highest rate of stunting in the world, tied with Malawi.

15 percent of infants are born with a low birth weight. 

53 percent of children under the age of five are stunted.

Under nutrition rates have stayed virtually constant in Madagascar over the past two decades.

Madagascar has higher rates of stunting than many of its neighboring countries and income peers in the Africa region. This shows that it is possible to achieve lower rates of under nutrition despite low per capita income. 

Under nutrition is not just a problem of poverty. Children are undernourished in almost one half of even the richest households. This is not typically an issue of food access, but of caring practices and disease.

Malnourishment increases the likelihood of falling sick and enhancing the severity of diseases. 

I am not educated in public health nor nutrition to an extent level but I have witnessed chronic malnutrition, acute malnutrition, over nutrition and an inadequate intake of micronutrients in the village I live in and the surrounding villages. 

The main dish of the Malagasy people is rice. White rice or red rice. They eat it three times a day, everyday. They typically make it with salt (as with all dishes-I imagine that is their main seasoning) or oil. Some families eat rice with "rô" which is a side dish, usually some sort of green vegetable that has been boiled or steamed (until no nutrients are left to consume) or pasta. Lots of times I see people eating pasta on top of rice. And then as a snack they have banana bread or cassava bread. Another snack is boiled sweet potatoes. Basically carbs on carbs on carbs, all day, everyday. 

An average family of 7 eats about 10 cups of rice everyday. An average cup of white rice is 400AR, the same amount as 4 carrots or 3 bananas or 6 tomatoes or 4 medium sized zucchini (in my region, in good growing season). 

So, I'm doing my best to push better eating habits and a balanced diet by attending baby weighing in each village in my commune. During the weighing we can see which children are undernourished by looking at their growth chart and arm circumference. I ask questions regarding the health of the child or children in the family and what meals are provided and when. This is also an opportunity to teach about proper breast feeding and weaning along with family planning. We brainstorm new snacks for the kids throughout the day, budgeting for nutritious foods at the market, and how to properly prepare and cook meals. 

A lot of these practices have to do with the individual and whether or not they want to change their daily routine or try new ways of cooking (taught by a white girl with no children) after many years of being taught the same thing. A lot of our work as Peace Corps Volunteers is working in behavior change and that can be tricky. But I'm determined to help my village raise their children to be strong and healthy by teaching, showing, sharing, and conversing new ways to provide a balanced diet. 

At a later date I will write about my new garden and my gardening club! 

I'm like the Venti size at Starbucks

That's me. "Maventy" as they say. I'm the only person in a 5 mile radius that doesnt eat rice three times a day and I'm the largest person for my age and height for days. For example, a woman my age, and my height (5'5") that has never been pregnant and is not currently pregnant weighs about 110lbs.

 I've witnessed it time and time again, I weigh more than a pregnant woman who is almost to full term and a lot the time, where I live, more than a fully grown Malagasy man... 

So, I get why they call me "maventy", it's because it's true. I'm huge! I'm a 24-year-old woman and weigh 135 pounds! But people say I should take it as a compliment and that's what I'm trying to do because the Malagasy diet and culture of eating just doesn't cut it for me! 

Side notes:

The average newborn in my area weighs 2.9kg

The average 3 year old weighs 10kg

And a 5 year old weighs 12kg

The average upper arm circumference of a 10 year old is 18cm 

Yet, these people can walk over 40k in a day-everyday- with no shoes. I've seen people carry over 20 liters of water on top of their head with no hands with a newborn on their back and with 6 chickens in their hands. They can sit in squatting position while washing clothes for an hour. And they can climb coconut trees with no help from anything but their hands and feet.

 The Malagasy people I have seen are some of the skinniest yet physically strongest people I have ever seen in my life. 

I'm like the Venti size at Starbucks. I got/am the Venti size, it's not doing me any good (other than being well nourished and not getting ill often) and people are staring at me and judging. Oh, being a minority certainly draws some lines of comparison worth observation. 

Damn spider

Today I talked to a spider the size of my hand. Not because I was bored, in fact I had places to be. But I thought that if I politely asked him to leave my house that he would take that path. When he didn't I cursed at him because I didn't have enough courage to kill him. 

But me talking to a spider the size of my hand inside my house eventually ended up with me talking myself into having the courage to kill him. (Referencing earlier posts, spiders and I are not living in harmony anymore.) I grabbed the broom, reached towards the ceiling and he came tumbling down. I smashed his guts on the floor then yelled or maybe I was yelling the whole time. But while I was taking a picture, I yelled again when I found out he wasn't dead yet, smashed more of his guts on the ground and then felt like passing out or throwing up.

Picture of said spider post first smashing. I know what you're all thinking how can he still be alive??

It's times like these that make me think I'm not cut out for living in Africa. 

But the worst part about all of that ^ is the one woman who I have been trying to gain respect from sees me doing a little creepy crawly jig after hearing me yell and asks what's happening? 

I say "bibikely anaty tranoko", which translates to "small animal inside my house". I forget the word for spider all of the time, so "small animal" will suffice, especially in this situation... 

She comes into my house. I show her where the damn dead spider is and she picks it up with her bare hand and throws it outside. She says "insert Gasy word for spider here/or maybe an insult directed towards me", and leaves my house in disgust. 

Good I'm living here for two years, because that's how long it's going to take me to be able to kill a spider with complete composure and how long it will take for me to gain this woman's respect. 

The rats, bats, and cats that live above me

The My house is one of the nicest in my community. I'm lucky to have concrete floors and a tin roof.

 But in between that tin roof and sturdy foundation are the animals that live with me, not by invitation. 

In between, I have burnt planks of wood that is considered a ceiling. We've fixed up the bigger holes so that human beings cant fit through them and somehow we thought that was good enough. I think most of us volunteers in ambonivolo (countryside) hear bats at night. It's not that big of a deal (sorry Marcelo). But when they live and fly and eat and socialize above you it gets to you after awhile. 

Rats are gross. They carry diseases. They can scale walls for gods sake and live above me. I'm not saying it's okay but they leave me alone, are fairly quiet and don't eat my food. I just have to sweep more frequently because of their bowel movements. 

It's the cats. Or cat. There's only one and it is the worst animal to ever live above me. It's loud, it gets into my stuff, it acts cute when it knows I'm annoyed, and it's not even my cat! But the worst part is that it doesn't do a damn thing about the rats or bats. I have sat and heard a rat playing around under my dresser and the cat sat there next to me, gazing up at me with a face that says what are you going to feed me today? 

And it comes and goes whenever he wants. And it's also frustrating that it's name is Mimi, all cats are named Mimi. Why? I don't know. 

If anyone were to ask me what is worse to have out of the three, it wouldn't be the bats, or the rats, I would say it's the cats or cat, hands down, no question about it. 

But we all live in harmony for now, the bats, rats, cat, snakes, scorpions, spiders, ants, and  anything else that can make their way in and out of my Malagasy house! 

Mimi taking a nap. 

Counting down the days until I get to use a laundry machine

My mom taught me how to use a laundry machine when I was 12 or 13 years, I think. Early enough for me to build a strong  relationship with them. I miss them. They are the most under appreciated invention, I think, on the planet. 

Of course I think that now, when I'm standing knee deep in rivers that I'm not supposed to be in because of some bacterial tiny creature thing that can get in through my skin and make me very ill ( so the doctors say...) washing my clothes, with my hands. 

But let's go back to home stay times when I washed clothes, by hand, for the first time in my life. 

Gathered my clothes, went to the river behind my house an stood there as my host mom and aunt showed me the routine and motion of washing clothes the Malagasy way (or the way of all people that don't own machines to help them). So they're 3 articles of clothes in within five minutes and I feel like I understand. I start. They stop me and show me all over again. Ya, ok, I got it! I start. They stop me. We try again until it's no use and I'm standing there watching again. Multiple this experience by three and that's home stay. 

What'd I learn? Keep your clothes clean, wear them as long as possible, and if I want to entertain or frustrate Malagasy women and children let them watch me wash my clothes.

Now, I'm gonna talk about the present. 

So, lucky me I live next to a huge river, I mean massive! It's name is Matitanana (which translates into "dead town", it's so big that it "kills" the towns closest to it each rainy season). So at first people told me to go under the bridge of another river, I listen because they tell me the water is clean and I feel like that's important for washing clothes. I head over around 10AM because then I don't have to walk with my basket full of clothes past hundreds of students heading in the same direction towards a school, and I figured many woman would be done washing their clothes because they insist on waking up at the break of dawn, or earlier. Well, that wasn't the case. I walked with my dirty clothes for about a mile to arrive at the bridge to find at least 7 women, 13 children and 3 babies all looking at me and cheering. I'll translate, they were cheering that the white girl does her own washing! More excitement was shown towards me washing my own clothes in the local river than the Malagasy showed at their own Independence Day party... Quite strange. But let's do this laundry washing in the river business. 

That time was better, I'm getting the hang of it, I think. 

So I repeat this until the water under the bridge becomes too dirty to wash there and me and everyone else need to relocate. So lucky for we go to the big river right in front of my house. It's quite fascinating how this one river is used. While I'm washing my clothes, there are people and goods being transported, women are bathing, omby (kind of like cows) drinking and pissing, children are playing, people are fishing and fetching water, all from the same source. So, on this note, the laundry topic has now turned into a major health issue for this community and all the other communities doing the exact same practices. 

This is dirty water, when people are washing themselves, brushing their teeth, and fetching water that they cook with next to animals walking in and pissing in the same source, we have a problem. And I for one, have no solution for people that have been doing it for years and years. My job is to educate people that they should drink clean water by filtering and bleaching it. Using these practices to clean water to not only drink but clean themselves and their clothes, to improve their hygiene habits and life style to create a healthier way of living. So I'm thinking all of this while women and children are washing their clothes and I standing right beside them doing the same. 

me,

Matitanana

Living with the Mosasy Family

This blog post is about home stay and a little about training. Also, about the time I found my deep hatred for mosquitoes and geese, the time I found a new fear of the dark and of witches, and the time I found a new appreciation for running water and toilets (especially located indoors).

A few words about language training; it's never ending.
A few more words about the Malagasy language in general; it isn't easy, most verbs begin with "M" and have at least three syllables. Example: Mitsangatsangana means to take a stroll/wander around. Also, the letters C, Q, U, W and X do no exist in the Malagasy language. A lot of words are derived from the French language or are very similar to the French words for things. Malagasy only use French numbers when it comes to prices, dates, phone numbers and almost every other time you use numbers except for the time, which can be confusing, being that I am not mahay (knowledgeable) at French numbers, nor any French whatsoever. But the language is sing songy and very beautiful.We had language class 4 hours a day during PST (Pre Service Training).
A breakdown of our daily PST routine; woke up around 4:45 on most days because that's what the family was used to, and roosters are loud whenever and not just when the sun comes up, ate breakfast and headed to language lessons at 8AM, at noon headed back to host family and ate lunch with them and tried to utilize the language we learned in the previous hours, at 2PM headed to the local commune and were taught either about the Malagasy culture or technical skills for our sector, in my case, health skills. Then at 5PM ish headed back to host family and helped cook dinner, tried to communicate, ate and went to bed immediately after eating. *** Fear of the dark bit.***Little to no electricity means no street lamps, meaning you can't see even three feet in front of your face. It being a foreign country, in the countryside with no light when the sunsets translates into a very quiet and scary place. And to add to it, some Malagasy believe in witches. These witches are real people who allegedly roam around the countryside at night, wreck havoc and leave poop on your doorstep. Conclusion, get me inside, I now have a fear of the dark and anything that lurks around in it.

My family in our kitchen.

But throw a few snack breaks in there and maybe a shower once or twice a week (** no running water, bucket showers require time and energy to heat water on an open flame) add some soccer games, mitsangatsangana-ing on the weekends, dodging angry geese on the roads (evil, evil, evil animals that have something against all human beings), resisting the temptation to scratch mosquito bites, and some clothes washing in the river (** again with the no running water situation) and that's home stay in a nut shell.

The river I washed my clothes in.

Fandrisana hanging out the window.

My family was wonderful though!  My dad was said to be a priest, not the case however, because we/they never went to church nor work. My mom was very young and took care of my host brother, 2 year old, Mosasy, and my host aunt was a seamstress. The dog's name was Pito, he was the loudest dog on the block, hands down. We also had some other family live with us for a while, who were equally as welcoming and were equally as entertained by my poor language abilities and my American loudness and enthusiasm.In the 6 months I have been in Madagascar, I say with full confidence that the Malagasy people are some of the nicest people I have ever met.

My little brother showing me where his ears were.

Mosasy, Pito, and Bebe.

Gift packages!!

Hello!! First off let me thank everyone who has already sent me packages and letters! I love receiving them no matter what's inside or how lengthy the letter is, (it feels like Christmas or my birthday each time- seriously though)!

Many people have been messaging me about what they can send me or what I need so I figured it'd be a good idea to have a post about it (and other PCVs did this too). 

Some advice to keep it inexpensive; try sending it through USPS flat rate boxes, do NOT use DHL!! 

Address:

BP 217  

 309 Farafangana

 Madagascar

Things: 

Photos (help me remember what you look like)

Wet wipes

Hand sanitizer

Candy!!! (Any type)

Drink packets (coffee, tea, juice)

Oreos

Oatmeal packets

Candles (remember no electricity)

Scotch tape

For the kiddos:

Stickers

Coloring books

Markers

Construction paper

Pencils and pens for school

Beads

Hot Wheels

Marbles

Balls (love soccer balls) 

Glow sticks 

Anything from the dollar store really

***please no loud toys, they manage to break everything BUT loud noise makers and I have to suffer, along with adults and animals, basically everyone's ears bleed but the children's. 

Staging, traveling, and arriving in MCAR

During Peace Corps staging is just all of us folk gathering in a hotel in Washington DC to get paperwork signed and to actually see who shows up to get on the plane the next day..For the March 2013 stage, there were 37 of us that arrived at the hotel for staging. There was paperwork, ice breakers, awkward moments, and ticket stubs distributed for free alcoholic (or nonalcoholic) beverages.We received our Peace Corps passports, and some of us went to see the White House. We also met people who were about to depart to serve in Senegal and Dominican Republic, kind of cool but also a cluster cuss as well with that many people in one hotel going to three different countries. An idea of what it was like, I'd see a person carrying multiple bags and has been crying and approach them, "Hi! Are you in Peace Corps?... ME TOO!... Oh, you're not going to Madagascar?... Okay, have fun, bye!" This happened over and over again until we were all separated into our designated countries. 

Proud owner of two passports.

Then, all 37 of us got on a plane to Senegal (but not with the other group of people that were going there to serve). The flight was something like 10 hours or so. Landed there for about an hour, didn't actually get off the plane and then flew another 7 hours or so to Johannesburg, South Africa. Within these 18 hours or so, many of the 37 consumed multiple alcoholic beverages, enough said. We stayed the night in a hotel five minutes from the airport only to get back on a plane 12 hours later. The flight to Madagascar from Johannesburg is 3 hours, and thank goodness for  that because the plane was tiny and we were all pretty sick of being in the air.  

I'm speaking for myself, seeing my new home from the plane was very exciting! 

Upon arrival in Madagascar International Airport, we were immediately sweating and approached by a woman asking for our passports. We didn't ask any questions and handed them over (we didn't see our passports again for another 3-4 weeks...) Then we were greeted by three Peace Corps Volunteers, got a sweaty group picture taken, and as we joke, met with someone who said, "here, take this pink pill and get in my white van." Which didn't necessarily happen in that order but I'm summarizing here. We divided into groups, got into six white SUVs and drove for what seemed like eternity (to Peace Corps Training Center in Mantasoa) on the worst road I want to say I've ever rode on. I got shot gun and no one threw up though. Antananarivo is ridiculously populated (blog to be posted later specifically on the capital of Madagascar and then another blog post on the roads in this country, stay tuned). 

Leaving  the capital and entering the countryside.

We arrive at PCTC to find that it is a surprisingly large compound with about 20 buildings located on a huge lake, Lake Mantasoa. We are greeted by many Malagasy people, which we later find out are our language and culture trainers and the rest of the Peace Corps Madagascar staff. We find roommates, get situated in our rooms and are told breakfast is served at 7AM and language classes begin after eating. Oh, and we go to our host families two days later. Most of us are too tired to freak out, but that came after a good nights rest under our mosquito nets.

6 months in country and finally posting for the first time

First off, let me apologize to anyone (the very few people) back home who have been waiting for me to post pictures and blog posts about my adventures over here in Madagascar, or as I'm calling it these days, MCAR for short.
So, with that said, I'm going to do my best to catch everyone up to date in under five posts (ish) and then hopefully post frequently, being that every day is an adventure in this country.

For those of you who don't know, I won the Peace Corps lottery when I was posted to serve in Madagascar. I graduated with a Journalism degree (I focused in photography, keep in mind while reading my blog) from The University of Montana in December 2012 and in March 2013 departed for MCAR to train and serve as a volunteer health educator (a later post to explain what the weight of that title means). 

Hiking near Ankazobe.